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Ghastly Adventures

Discussion in 'Creative Writing' started by MoonledJourney, Nov 27, 2020.

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  1. MoonledJourney

    MoonledJourney Getting out there.

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    A band of immortal terrorists, a rich scion seeking true immortality, a psychopathic detective, a warrior who knows no defeat, and a time traveler all meet in one Ghastly Adventure.
     
    Gigant likes this.
  2. Threadmarks: Terrorists Unite!
    MoonledJourney

    MoonledJourney Getting out there.

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    Down the twisting path under the cover of night walks a man. Slung across his back is a black featureless rectangle, a foot taller than he was, it stood at 6 feet and nine inches. The man himself was a gloomy looking fellow with gray hair and dull steely blue eyes. His face was stuck looking as if he’d swallow something sour. His dress was a tieless black suit with matching dress shoes. Under his coat was the only variation in his clothing; a white dress shirt that was exposed by the unbuttoned state of his jacket.

    The ground was notably muddy and looking at the sneering glare the man directed at his feet he’d noticed that fact by now. If one could read his mind, then they’d know he was lamenting that the road was unable to handle the passage of a car.

    As he went onwards, he approached a three story tall mansion made of gray stone bricks. The building’s roof was colored black and it seemed a misfit for the stones they’d chosen. It certainly gave off an odd impression at night. The mansion grounds were illuminated by tall lamps dotting the yard. The gate matched the design scheme of the mansion and had two middle aged attendants who bowed down as the man passed.

    The look of fear in their eyes was unmistakable and this wasn’t the first time they’d felt this kind of writhing terror tonight. Many others like the man had passed through these wretched gates. Still, they’d not been able to acclimate. The man himself gives them a slight smile as he glanced at their backs.

    The gray haired man grabbed the locket hanging from his neck and squeezed as a single drop of blood dribbled down from its crack. The crimson drop glows dully as it falls and hits his muddy shoes. The dirt dries and flakes off leaving his footwear in pristine condition.

    “Oi, Visai!” A man with firey red hair calls out in greeting. He speaks with an oddly accented lilt and envelops the gray haired fellow in a hug as he enters the building. “Long time no see as these westerners like to say! Ahahahaha!”

    His hair was an abnormal shade of red that stood out even more when paired with his eyes that possessed all the color and luster of diligently polished gold. His dress was a white robe embroidered with silver trees and with dyed on blue birds resting upon their branches. The birds are disproportionately sized compared to the rest of the portrait giving it a sense of surrealism.

    “Greetings teacher.” The gray haired man, Visai, did not reciprocate but still cracked the barest of smiles. “It’s good to see you again.”

    “Hahaha, I’d say. How long’s it been?” The red haired man’s head snapped back as he let out a hardy laugh and kept his left hand on Visai’s shoulder. He clears his throat and spits. “Two, three decades? Ptui, it doesn’t matter. Now-”

    “You fucker, what the hell do you think you’re doing to my floor?” A third voice joins our duo sounding almost casually despite the contents of his speech. “Where’s the respect, where’s the dignity, where’d your etiquette go? Have they rotten away alongside your last braincell?”

    This man’s attire is a plain dark blue dress shirt embroidered with an eastern dragon made of gold thread. His eyes are a fierce amber and his hair a dark curly brown. His pants are black slacks and he’s wearing polished brown leather shoes. Hanging from his neck is an opaque white bottle attached to a golden chain.

    “No, they unfortunately left behind in the same place you left your balls Aloysius.” The golden eyed man rolls his eyes and spits in disgust. “They’ve been missing since the day you decided to puss out like a bitch from our duel.”

    “Hahaha, I’m going to castrate you mother fucker.” The man lets out a jolly laugh.

    A wisp of purple smoke leaks from the bottle around his neck as it seems to expand into a ball a foot wide in diameter. The orb bursts into a kaleidoscope of butterflies; though they’re all black so calling them that is a misnomer.

    Visai clasps a hand on his locket as he drops the package on his back to the floor with a heavy bang being created as it impacts the stone. The red haired man smiles in glee as his eyes seem to glow with his rising exuberance. He takes in a deep breath before exhaling in a motion akin to spitting. A mist of blood is shot forward and envelops the butterflies like a child with a net. They’re brought to the ground in a puddle of red and black. There are scarce few left after that but those that remain do not hesitate to launch themselves at the redhead; moving with speed akin to that of a bullet.

    The grim faced man had already grabbed his package’s strap and swung it an instant before the butterflies had hurled themselves at them. The heavy case disperses the butterflies with a single swing before Visai jumps back, leaving his package behind to fall on the floor, as he tries to make distance from the fumes those butterflies had burst into.

    “Cut it off you brats.” Another joins their conflict. “You’re causing a commotion and I ain’t got time for that.”

    This newest arrival is a blonde haired, blue eyed man. His features are soft on the eyes and his dress is the most casual out of everyone assembled. He has some flexible gray sports pants and a soft black tee shirt. On his feet are a pair of cheap wooden sandals. His skin is on the paler side and reflects a life spent outside the harshness of the sun.

    “Roland?” Aloysius looks surprised at hearing his voice. “You’re still alive?”

    “Yep, was just lounging around when Sen here told me about your little get together.” The man smirks a wicked smile. “I’m feeling a bit vindictive so I decided to end my vacation and join in on the fun.”

    “Your highness.” The red haired man gives a bow while the other two men back up slightly. “It is good to see you again.”

    “Senan, there aren’t too many of us around.” A frown flickers across his face for the barest fraction of a second. “It’s best you don’t get too into fighting each other until after we’ve finished dealing with these barbarians.”

    “As you will my lord.”

    “I got some mingling to do.” His voice is tinged in glee as he looks at the others. Surprisingly after their little spat the attention of everyone was on Roland. “Gotta make sure no one’s forgotten me yet.”

    Without another word Senan walks away and leaves Aloysius standing there. His gray haired disciple soon follows. Aloysius mutters something to himself and heads off with forceful steps to another room. The pair go to the back and Senan beckons at a man dressed in a gray suit to come along. He seems to recognize them and gives nod to his conversation partner, a brown skinned woman covered in red tribal tattoos, as he says his goodbyes and joins them.

    They make their way to the back porch; exchange pleasantries and greetings along the way. The man in the gray suit snaps his fingers and a bubble blows up from between his thumb and forefinger. It expands to envelop the three of them briefly before fading away.

    “It’s safe to talk.” The man in a gray suit says seriously. “I’d still be leery about lip reading.”

    “Thanks, Siam.” Senan smirks and claps him on the shoulder. “Now, what do you guys think of the plan?”

    “It’s madness.” Without hesitation Visai, with his face wrinkled in disgust, states his opinion. “Even if we manage to pull it off, we’ll only draw everyone’s ire and then, after a short while, we’ll be butchered.”

    “This isn’t likely to turn out well but there aren’t many options left at this point.” Siam weighs in frowning. He leans back against the wall and begin stroking his stubble. “After the stunt Amir pulled it’s going to be hard to get out of our present predicament. We either hide in obscurity or pull something drastic; I’d agree with Visai in that this is the stupidest course of action they could’ve possibly decided upon.”

    “Ya, sounds about right.” Senan nods his head. “Warlords, madmen, and savages the lot of them. This is something that could only be dreamt up by people of a baser sort. Good at running and fighting as they may be but that’s all they’ve got going for them.”

    “Oh, yeah Adelaide should be joining us Sen.” Siam mentions as he rubs the back of his hand against his mouth. “You planning on backstabbing them?”

    “We’ll have to go for a drink right after we finish our raid.” Sen agrees before pausing to think. “As long as Roland is amenable to joining us.”

    “That sounds reasonable.” Visai says. “Are we leaving Aloysius behind?”

    “Dunno.” Senan shrugs. “Aloysius’ participation isn’t for me to say.”

    Visai feels something chilling come from within the mansion as the fifth curse is used to cover their surroundings in an intangible barrier. Soon an invocation of the third curse is felt as well and weaved into the fabric of the recently established barrier. It seems they’ve set up a pretty potent defense against scrying.

    “What do you think Aloysius is paying for this?” Siam asks with a frown.

    None of those gathered have an answer for him and judging by his expression he hadn’t expected one in the first place. It seems now is the time to gather and start preparing. The trio separates and begin making their way towards the basement.

    “Visai, you got those extra bodies ready?” Roland says as they head downstairs. “It’d be good for everyone to have some backups.”

    “I wasn’t aware you’d be coming so I haven’t had the chance to create a homunculus for your use.” Visai says stiffly. “If need be, I can rush and have one ready for you within three days.”

    “That’s fine, it doesn’t really matter.” Roland smiles warmly and gives him a pat on the back. “No one can kill me anyway.”

    Visai enters the basement before setting the metal box he’d been carrying on his back down. Everyone, a little over ten since any regular mage would be killed by the amount of curse that would be produced from the rituals planned, is standing spaced out. Esme turns her gaze to Visai and he sighs. This is his cue to begin unpacking. The rectangular box opens to reveal a room of such spaciousness that you’d be able to fit objects ten times the box’s size inside. The interior of the room is lined with pink flesh. Lodged into the walls are a variety of organs, bodies, and unidentifiable flesh bags attached by thin blood vessels.

    “Anyone willing to help?” Visai says with a frown. “Miss Aitken is quite unwilling to enter my mortuary so I’d like some helping bringing the bodies out.”

    At my words a few guys come forward and join in pulling the bodies out from the walls. Each one is an identical copy of someone else in the room. They’re all naked too. We lie them on the ground side by side.

    “Modred, you go first.” Esme says with an annoyed frown etched onto her face.

    Esme is an unnaturally attractive woman. Older immortals usually become skilled in using the first curse to alter their appearance. At some point it becomes necessary else their form would degrade into something unsightly. It’s, surprisingly, more troublesome to maintain your appearance than it is to gain immortality. The latter just requires a couple of one-off rituals while the former is a constant struggle.

    I’ve gone off topic. Esme’s eyes are an emerald green, her hair a nice shade of light brown, and her skin is without blemish with a tone on the paler side. Her features are perfectly symmetrical, and her proportions are golden. Visai found it disgustingly vain.

    Modred on the other hand has a slight tan indicating hours spent under the sun. His body is covered in muscles and stands at nearly six and a half feet. An imposing man if you’d ever seen one. His hair is black, and his eyes are a brown so dark that they could be mistaken as sharing the color of his hair. He’s wearing a leather jacket and leather pants with brown mud-stained boots. Replicating his body had been quite an undertaking on Visai’s part.

    As Modred approaches; Esme pulls a white spectral thread, similar in texture to yarn, out of him. She attaches it to his lifeless duplicate and the thread fades. All the necessary enchantments had already been built into the body during and all it had needed was that finishing step. One by one she repeats the process with each of us.

    “What a pain this is going to be.” A freckled faced brown hair haired man complains. “You sure no one knows where this is Aloysius? I’m going to be pissed if someone manages to track down our back up bodies and I wake up to a hail of bullets to the face.”

    The man is dressed in a ragged blue hoody and well worn jeans. Upon his feet are a pair of dirty white tennis shoes. His right ear has a small ivory sphere hanging from it on a small silver chain. His right hand has two rings. One is a plain beaten up band of gold and marred in dirt while the other is silver with an emerald being the centerpiece and the rest of the ring being studded in diamond.

    “Not unless someone followed one of you.” Aloysius says as he stretches. “These grounds were purchased years ago so it would be a bit odd for them to find anything funny now. I’d been rather discrete in purchasing it.”

    “Can we get on with it?” A tattooed woman says. “The less time I have to spend with you heathens the better.”

    She’s dressed in a white dress that exposes much of her skin. There are a variety of markings and sigils tattooed onto the woman’s epidermis. They interlock and flow together to form a singular changing pattern that’s painted across the entirety of her body. From her wrist is a silver bracelet with short, an inch or two, silver chains hanging off it and dangling small black beads at their ends.

    “Yeah, yeah, yeah.” Senan twirls his hand. “Getting on it.”

    He brings his palm to his mouth and bites a chunk out of it. The blood evaporates throughout the room and dyes the walls. Senan chews the flesh a couple times before swallowing.

    A man whose left arm hangs limp is the who to step up next. The bandages burn and the arm spasms as it wiggles and muscles bulge. The palm has two toothless mouths side by side, his pointer finger has another small mouth, the back of his hand has an eye growing out of a large bump on it; whenever it closes it looks somewhat like a large red blister. His fingers wiggle around independently of each other and writhe in ways impossible for any creature in possession of bones. The entire limb seems to be breathing as it has begun expanding and contracting after its release.

    One of the palm’s mouths makes a gagging sound as it vomits up black fluid that soon congeals with the blood dyeing the walls. Soon a multitude of other such odd phenomena join in and defile the basement they’re occupying. A variety of glowing lights are produced, and a black ichor is left behind as a byproduct of their magic. The latter is swallow and regurgitated into the wall by one of the arm’s mouths.

    Soon the blood dye begins growing flesh and the walls become covered in pulsating black blood veins. They soon grew to the point that you wouldn’t be able to see the stone behind it. The only color possessed by the walls is the luminescence of purple coming from blood being transported within the black vessels. The bodies are returned to their original places, the only object not yet covered in flesh, inside Visai’s box.

    “We should get out of here.” Aloysius observes in disgust.

    “No shit.” An auburn haired brown eyed girl says. She’s dressed in a blue suit and her features, while pretty, look much closer to average compared to the other girls within this room. “This place is as cursed as one those old timey Sugi tombs.”

    “We needed somewhere to store it all.” Visai frowns. “This way it’ll take them a few weeks at least to notice; if we’re lucky it’s possible it could even last half a year. Provided they aren’t looking took hard.”

    “Doesn’t make it any more pleasant to look at.”

    They make their way to the large doorway. Aloysius flicks a glass bead behind them as they exit and the stone making up the path melts. The box is left behind within that pulsating mash of cancerous flesh.

    “Hopefully the abomination doesn’t tunnel under the ocean again.” Siam looks over his shoulder as he mentions it.

    “Yeah, that’d be a problem.” Visai frowns at the thought and worries for his mortuary. “I kinda need that.”
     
  3. Threadmarks: Kill the Mage
    MoonledJourney

    MoonledJourney Getting out there.

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    Solomon kicks in the abandoned warehouse’s door. He alongside Joshua and Louise rush into the building. There’s a massive metal pot kept in the center of the room. The floor is covered in blood as headless bodies lie on the ground. Their empty skulls are piled in one of the room’s corners; separate from the bodies. Five figures are throughout the room. Two around the pot and the other three playing a game of cards around a table located in a corner unblemished by the corpse’s entrails. How they could withstand the stench and play cards was beyond Solomon.

    Contained inside the metal pot is a stew of crushed brain matter. Solomon pulls his gun as the pot’s contents levitate into the air and the brain matter glows as it forms many small blue orbs. The brain matter melts and merges with the light into a gelatinous goop. Solomon fires a shot at the duo but the orbs flatten and form a thin membrane that blocks his bullets.

    Without hesitation Solomon changes his target and fires three shots to the side at the men playing cards. Each one hits them in the skull. At this point the other two accompanying Solomon have managed to draw their weapons and flank the duo as they try to move around the barrier.

    The gelatin fires itself at them and splatters. At the same time gunshots ring and miss. They all leap back but are unable to escape the getting some of the liquid on them. Solomon takes the brunt of it as he’s closest. Solomon throws his black trench coat off without hesitation. The gelatin explodes off his coat and sends Solomon forward. He rolls with the impact and regains his posture. He fires two more shots at the mages. The one controlling it stumbles as his chest is hit twice.

    The other man fires pellets of force at Solomon creating two holes in the right side of his chest. It’s likely that he held quite a grudge for the death of his friends. It doesn’t matter though as he’s soon shot down by Louise and Joshua. They’ve already recovered from the explosion and are mostly unharmed.

    “I should’ve brought a gun…” The who just got shot groans as he’s slumped to the floor.

    The one complaining is a young man looking to be in his early twenties. They all appear to be in their twenties with only the one who’d controlled the blue gelatin appearing to be middle aged. If Solomon wasn’t so distracted by the holes in his chest then he’d perhaps have had some cynical comments on college students. He would also use this to explain to himself why they were so obvious. Normally these kind of things are much harder to find.

    He’d also speculate that it was some kind of private practitioner. Maybe he owned a mortuary or something along those lines where he’d get the chance to siphon mana extracted from brain matter. He was likely able to get plenty of practice that way. Normally mortuaries are required to turn in extracted mana to the government but sometimes, if they’re careful enough, they can take some of that mana and use it for their own purposes without being discovered.

    He probably wanted to gather some more mana so he could use it to heal some life threatening illness, sell it on the black market, or perhaps he was preparing a ritual of immortality. Whatever the case may have been it ended with him screwing up massively. They probably hadn’t been doing this kind of thing for long.

    Solomon’s vision fades to black. He wakes up to find himself in a hospital bed where he’d spend the next few weeks. His chest ached and he was having some trouble breathing. All in all Solomon was feeling utterly pissed about his whole situation.

    “You look like crap.” Adam, a bald blackman dressed in a long brown coat, says. His face stretches into a lopsided smile. “Shame I couldn’t be there. Sounds like you were havin’ some fun.”

    “Ha.” Solomon snorts before shaking his head. “No, can’t say I particularly enjoyed that.”

    “Well, we found an interesting case while you were stuck here.” Adam smirks. “We’re looking into some cult that had moved into town recently.”

    “Cult? What’re they about?”

    “They’re one of those eternal life after life kinda guys. You know? The do this, do that, and you live forever kind; not the ritualistic sacrifice to stop your body from aging kind. At least that’s what it seems like so far.” Adam grimaced in disgust. “Accursed mages; may they all die a cold death in some ditch. Anyways, they’re called Eternity’s Embrace. Real weirdoes but nothing too awful.”

    They continued exchanging some small talk for a while longer before Adam exited the room. Solomon frowned, tried to wiggle around a bit, felt the dull pain in his chest, and gave up on his plans for a walk. He gave a few irritated curses before lying back down and trying to sleep.

    This is how he spent the next couple weeks before being allowed to leave and heading back home. First thing he did was grab his pistol and head out into the woods, his house was built next to a patch of wilderness, with a bag of cans. He began stacking them on a tree stump he liked using for this kind of thing. He stacked six cans into a tower. Three at the bottom, two in the middle, and one on top.

    Six shots fired and all the cans had a hole in them before the first had even hit the ground. Solomon had from a young age been taught how to shoot a gun by his grandfather and after his grandfather’s demise had practiced his shooting religiously. At this point in time it’d been two decades since he first picked up a rifle. Solomon was well beyond what most people would consider proficient. In fact, he was likely one of the best gunmen in the entirety of Northern Merope.

    He sets the cans up again and fires another six shots. He continues shooting and practicing for hours on end, as he doesn’t have work for the rest of the week, until he runs out of bullets. Then he packs up his broken-up cans and heads home. He spends an hour and a half on anaerobic exercises, breaks taken often due to his injuries, and then goes for a walk. Normally he’d jog but he’s still recovering so he refrains.

    Solomon is what most would consider a violent man. The agency he works for specializes in finding mages and, while usually they just call in someone else, there are still the rare times when an opportunity presents itself.

    This happens when they’re forced to engage the mages for whatever reason. Here it had been because the warehouse was too far out of the way and screaming had been reported when they were close. They’d known some mages were in the area but hadn’t yet gotten the police involved

    How are mages usually dealt with? Normally police officers are sufficient but at times there are more experienced ones who special forces will be called in for. That middle age man who was blocking their bullets likely would’ve warranted such a response if they’d had knowledge of him. The average mage though is less lethal than a man with a gun.

    Solomon smiled as he thought back to his kill. Truly Solomon was a brutal man. If it were up to him then every mage would be executed upon discovery. That was why he’d joined his agency. It was so he could be the first one to get any info on mage activity. It wasn’t just once or twice that he’d gone out on his own and executed some vigilante justice. He’d held a vendetta ever since his grandfather’s death.

    Solomon continued recuperating for the next week. After that day he brought more bullets and practiced far longer. He’d practice ‘til his wound became irritated. Overall time well spent in his opinion.

    The next week was more boring. Hours spent writing reports, catching up on work, talking to people living in the area of the cult, and all that was something Solomon found very dull. If he could just spend all his days training and fighting then he’d likely choose to do that. There’d been a few times when he’d considered joining the army after they launched a campaign against the eastern mage lords but he’d heard far too many rumors about the atrocities being committed against the citizenry by their forces to be comfortable with such a proposition.

    Another boring day was just in the way of passing when something truly interesting began taking place. There’d been an explosion outside of the city. That was direction where Fort Luk was located. It was a notable location because it was one of the few designated areas for largescale storage of mana. If anyone was attacking it then it was likely…

    I did a sharp U-turn and nearly drove into a car going in the opposite direction. Horns blare as I speed like I’ve never sped before. I dodge around cars, ignore red lights, and at one point I driven through someone’s yard and nearly hit a pedestrian.

    Ah, I’m getting too excited. It wouldn’t do if I were to actually kill anyone. I’d probably end up bathing in hellfire for that after all. Mages are one thing, they all deserve death, but normal people are another. With that thought in mind I tamper down on my reckless driving and slow down a little bit.

    Soon I make it to the office. I take out my key and with quick steps I head towards the safe kept in the boss’ office. This is where the guns are stored, and I plan on taking everything I can.

    “What’re you doin’ Sol?” Louise asks as she comes out of her office. “Thought you were out in Newville looking at the cult that’d moved in.”

    Louise is a blonde haired girl. Right now, she’s wearing a brown leather coat and blue jeans. She has big brown eyes. Her skin is tanned since it’s summer and she makes a point of getting a tan.

    “Louise, I gotta go grab something.” I smirk at her showing my teeth. “There’s something interesting about to happen I can feel it.”

    “Got anythin’ to do with that explosion?” She questions with a raised eyebrow. Her features are small and her stature average. Her figure is leaned and moderately muscled from spending every other day at the gym. “Mhmm, bring me along. I got some EMR training in case anything happens and I’d love to see me some guts.”

    She also has a fetish for organs and that kind of thing. When I say that I do not mean she’s into necrophilia but rather she just finds missing eyes and such to be exciting. The number of people like her working in things like EMS is not insignificant.

    “Got it, go get in the car while I grab the guns.” I hurry up and enter the room. The boss had given me the number last year and luckily I’d managed to keep it in my head.
    I grab a shotgun and rifle out of the safe. There’s also a pair of handguns that the boss had gotten as gifts from family. I load the handguns and ammo in a bag while I personally carry the rifle and shotgun. With that I slam the pedal to the metal and with a screech the car speeds out of the entrance and onto the road as Louise’s eyes widen.

    “Ahhhhh!”

    Louise screams as I drive over the curb and into another lane; I made sure there were no pedestrians if you’re wondering. I swing the car back onto the road and cut off one very pissed off driver. He enters a road rage with me as his target but quickly crashes into another car.

    I smile at the display. I’m truly not a very good person.

    “Holy crap I’m lucky.” I let out a laugh before I refocus my full attention back onto the road.

    I was planning on driving off road to get to Fort Luk but it seems unnecessary now. My target had saved me the trouble of going out to meet them by coming into town directly. I couldn’t think of a reason for why they’d do something like that, but I was grateful for it.

    I let go of the wheel and trusted in Louise to know what to do. I’m right to do so as she, while spewing profanities, grabs the wheel before I crash into the side of a building. I push the upper half of my body out the window as I aim my gun.

    The scene I’m looking at right now is a flying woman covered in red tattoos. Her body is covered in flowing robes made from tiny interlocking chains so finely made they’d be indistinguishable from normal clothing if I hadn’t researched this specific woman and known about it preemptively.

    The high priestess of Samarkand is the leading figure in a theocratic dictatorship that had established itself in the eastern lands after she and her followers fled from here in the aftermath of a war her people had lost several hundred years ago. She specializes in manipulating magnetic fields and using electricity. Her mastery allows her to generate magnetic force with enough efficiency that the cost of flying is negligible.

    As for why she’s flying right now? I couldn’t tell you but, as I stare, I soon conclude it probably has something to do with that crystal sphere she’s holding in her hands. It’s absolutely brimming with mana and, while its not noticeable to someone untrained, I’ve spent many years practicing this kind of thing for exactly this moment.

    I pull out one of the bone bullets I’d stolen from a mage I’d killed in the past. Smuggling it was now proving itself well worth the effort. I always kept one of these bullets with me in case I ever faced a serious mage. Those kind tend to need some heavier caliber ammunition to kill and, while there’s no chance I’m getting access to those, these bullets are the next best thing. Best part of it is that they’re not metal. Truly god has blessed me this day.

    I line up a shot and fire at the women. There’s an explosion on her chest and the women wobbles in the air a bit before... I jump out of the car as light flashes. The ball of lightning she’d just gathered, in a clear sky no less, arcs down onto the car I’d just been in. Louise is probably dead now.

    I roll across the pavement as my skin is scraped and torn. The only thing lessening the damage is my burgundy leather jacket. It’s my favorite and I always wear it when I can. Still my knees are bleeding and my face isn’t in any better shape. Probably have a concussion.

    My rifle is bent slightly so I throw it to the side. The shotgun and extra pistols had been left back inside the car so they’re out of the picture. Now the only thing to do is run. So, as soon as I slow down enough to roll onto my feet, I make a break for it towards the nearest building I go, an accounting building, I throw open the doors and run in.

    Mhmm, it’s odd she hasn’t fired anything yet. I open a window and ignore the chattering of the people inside the building. Their words are like gibberish to my ears at this point. I focus and look for the woman as I lean forward. She’s not here. She just left. Probably after firing the first shot she didn’t bother checking and just went off on her merry way. I feel insulted by this turn of events.
     
  4. Threadmarks: This Calamity is Unstoppable!
    MoonledJourney

    MoonledJourney Getting out there.

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    “Each person possesses within them a well of mana. This well however is limited and will eventually run dry.” My teacher spoke as he drew a quick sketch of a well to accentuate his point. “It’s possible to draw upon this well directly but wielding mana in such a way is a method reserved for fools, unlearned amateurs, and madmen.”

    I stared at him with rapt attention as he spoke. His every word filling me with a sense of childish adventure as I violated that most ancient of taboos. What could be more exciting than sticking it to the man?

    “The true way to use magic is to store your mana within an object. Like my lucky coins.” Nicholas continued his explanation as he pulls three coins out from within his pockets. He holds them between his knuckles as he shows them to me. “The item you choose to do this with will go through a special process utilizing the element of ether to create a membrane to regulate the mana within. If you do it correctly it will be able to hold mana without leaking and the transfer power will be smooth. It’s also important to create a seal within this membrane that will store some of the curse generated as a byproduct of your magic.”

    The man takes out from within his pockets a silver hairpin studded with tiny jewels. He sets it down and smirks at me. He’s missing a couple of his abnormally white teeth and he has a few silver fillings in their place. Nicholas is a black skinned man with short hair that’s a mix between white and brown. His eyes are a light brown color. His wardrobe consists of a loose white dress shirt and gray slacks. He’s wearing a pair of old brown shoes that had long ago gone out of style. He looks to be in his late fifties.

    “It’s best to choose an object that’s discreet to store your power in. You want it somewhere easily accessible and yet not too obvious.” Nicholas gestures at the hairpin. “A hairpin will be perfect. Your hair has already grown out a bit so it can easily hide something so small and it won’t take long to grab onto it in a pinch.”

    “But…. Mister Goffrey why does it need to be jewelry?” I looked at the hairpin in dissatisfaction. It was far too girly for my sensitivities. “Can’t it just be a piece of wood or something?”

    “With the proper enchantments it’s possible but wood tends to rot when exposed to the elements of earth and fire. Wooden tools are mainly used for sealing spirits; as spirits can’t easily pass through organic matter.” Nicholas continues. “Silver and gold are two of the only metals that aren’t worn down by channeling the element of fire and jewels are effectively for sealing the curse of water and earth. It should be noted that iron tends to disrupt direct uses of mana. This can be avoided by using attacks that don’t need direct control like throwing stone, firing lightning, and other things of that nature.”

    I blink my eyes open as I yawn and take in my surroundings with bleary eyes. I get up out of bed and grab my diary to begin writing down my latest dream. Every few weeks I’d dream of, what I believed, to be memories from my past life.

    Who am I you ask? My name is Melchizedek. I have no last name that I’m aware of. Where was I born? What’s my family like? Do I have any skills? Sorry but I can’t tell you any of that. I’m an amnesiac after all.

    Five months ago, I’d woken up in this city, Ethel, lying in some dingy alleyway. I’d managed to get an apartment since then and make myself some money; a difficult endeavor without any identification but I had managed.

    Time freezes. The world is enveloped in a layer of pink smog as all motion ceases. A white worm slithers through the air. The creature looks as if an artist had left a long streak of convas unpainted. The creature’s length was over five feet and its width was that of a pinky finger.

    “Choose Mel; save the city and prevent the coming calamity, flee the city and preserve your sanity like the spineless coward you are, or join the immortals in their quest for power.” A beautiful female voice says as some slits on the worm open and the skin peels back to add lips onto the creature’s side. “Ah, it’s good to you know again Melky. Little Melky. How I love to see you my lad. Enjoyable. Fantastic. I could just eat you up.”

    Some of the mouths lick their lips as the creature speaks. Whenever the mouths open the area they’re at bulges to many times the worm’s width. It curls itself around my immobile form and wraps its body around my head. Some of the tongues begin slowly licking his face.

    ‘Option one.’ Melchizedek thinks. ‘I’d appreciate it if you didn’t do that.’

    “Hrrrhhhhh, so funny. Absolutely hysterical. To imply you don’t love my touch is such a silly joke.” The worm senses his displeasure and lets out an odd purring noise. “It’s a shame you’re so unwilling to stay but I suppose I’ll be seeing you again my dearest of friends. Have fun.”

    One of the creature’s mouths expands to insane proportions and swallows Melchizedek whole. The world is enveloped into darkness before he falls rapidly and slams back into the place where he’d just been. He leans forward and pants after the experience.

    “Ahh… Ahh.. Ahh…” Deep breaths as I gradually regain my calm. “Gotta get busy now.”

    I put on my shoes and coat as I walk outside. I head straight to the library before grabbing a chair and sitting down after entering. I use my friend’s library card to log into one of the computers and start looking up the local news. I went to the Felbook pages of the reporters, community pages, etcetera and eventually find something.

    “Bingo.” I smile. After an hour of research, I’d found something.

    There were reports of a woman flying and firing the occasional lightning bolt whenever someone tried shooting at her. Some were claiming she was the High priestess of Samarkand. She must have something to do with my power’s activation. No way this could be a coincidence.

    I break out of the library in a run as I rush to the location of her most recent sighting. My surroundings blur as I whip my way through the pedestrians as I rush. I run beside the highway ramp and, with a leap, manage to attach myself to the back of a passing truck.

    For those of you reading my diary you might be questioning if I’m exaggerating when describing my various athletic feats. You’re right to do so however, the truth is, that I’m just amazing. My physique is inhumanly durable, my feet are more agile than an Olympic runner, and my arms can lift far more than someone of my frame reasonably should.

    There’s a bar on the back of the truck. I’ve my legs loop themselves through the bar and I hold myself parallel to the ground with my abdominal muscles. I took this chance to get my headphones out and start up my MP3 player. I attempt to whistle along with the music but the wind makes it difficult.

    The truck is slowing down and trying to pull over. It seems I’ve been noticed. I pull myself up and look behind the truck for other vehicles. I see a car twenty feet behind me with the speed its going I should be able to make it.

    With a jump I soar through the air and land on the roof a blue car with a thud. I leave small indentation on the hood of his vehicle. I dig my fingers into the metal to stop myself from falling off. My fingertips bleed from being forced through the metal like that.

    The car I’m on is blaring its horn, making it hard for me to hear my music. He soon calms down on the honking of his horn and starts slowing down. I jump to one of the cars behind him. This repeats once more before the driver decides to tolerate my presence. It’s likely that he’d learned from previous examples that I’d just become someone else’s problem. What an altruistic soul.

    All good thing must come to an end unfortunately and it seems like the cops have come to bring an end to my hitchhiking. I dig my fingers into the car’s roof harder and make some space around the sunroof’s window. I pry it open and make sure to give it a good toss outside the highway.

    There’s a brown haired woman looking at me in terror. I smile and wave to reassure her of my presence.

    “Mind hitting the gas?” I ask while laying a hand on her shoulder. She shudders in fear. “The cops look to be catching up and I’ve got places to be.”

    The girl doesn’t seem to be complying, so I get out my switchblade to motivate her. Our speed experiences a sudden increase as she feels cold metal pressed against her neck. We quickly break a hundred in our chase. Lovely.

    “See?” I let out a laugh. “That wasn’t so bad was it?”

    The girl doesn’t say anything; I shake my head in disappointment at her silence. I start humming along to the song playing. I open the window and crank the sound up to max as the deafening screech of sirens picks up a couple notches. There’s my exit.

    “Pull into the right lane missy!” I bring myself closer to her and lean in to give her a couple taps with my switchblade. Our transition is swift, and I open the door to give the officers a wave. There isn’t a whole lot of space. I start kicking at the door hinges and rocking the car. Eventually the door gives wave and opens beyond its normal limit.

    “Thanks for the ride!” I give one last wave to the nameless girl and jump. “YAHOOO!”

    I fly over the curbing at the highway’s side. I then curl into a ball and do a couple flips before extending my legs and hitting the ground feet first. I do a couple skips, switching from leg to leg, as I kill my momentum and regain balance.

    I continue my run towards my destination with barely a pause. The top of my shoe is flopping open and exposing my toes. It’s pretty obnoxious so I start hopping on one leg and taking the shoe off before doing the same to the other foot. I continue the run in my steadily tearing socks.

    The police are catching up, so I jump onto a building’s pillar. I wrap my arms around it and set my feet to the sides and push my way to the top of the pillar. The roof is blocking my way so I lean back while holding myself in place with my thighs. I grab the edge and release the pillar. I swing myself onto the roof and land with a flip.

    I get my bearings and take off once more. I jump from roof to roof sometimes clearing upwards of ten feet with each leap. Often I break shingles, slide, and the roof I was on even caved in at one point. Trust me when I say that roofs do not make good tracks.

    As I’m running, I see amongst a crowd someone who catches my attention. He’s a large man standing well over six feet in height. His skin is tanned a golden brown and his body is bulky with muscle.

    I frown. He seems familiar and if I had to make a guess then I’d say he was someone from my past life. I walk up to him, my bare feet hitting the pavement, and send a right hook at his face. My palm is slapped to the side.

    “You need something?” The large man raises an eyebrow. “I have other business I need to attend to, so I’d appreciate it if you were to be quick.”

    “Just don’t like the cut of your jib.” I poke his chest and snake pull my switchblade out of my back pocket. I open the blade.

    “Ha. You wanna die?” The man lets out a snort and grabs my finger. “I don’t believe for an instant that you’re here on a whim.”

    “You’d be surprised.” I let out a smile.

    I pull my blade at him and give a stab. He squeezes my hand and reduces the finger to pulp. He lets go, bends under my blade, and rams his skull into my stomach.

    Screaming, I spin the blade in my hand and hold it in a reverse grip before stabbing him with the blade facing inward. I try to pull the blade up and start carving up his flesh, but the man pushes me back and it feels like I just got hit by a truck.

    I wobble a couple times as I regain my balance and look at my switchblade to see that the knife is missing. Much of the blade is stuck in that guy’s back. He looks surprised for some reason. He reaches behind him and starts digging. I book it.

    “Huh, I thought you wanted to fight asshole?!”

    “That was before my knife broke!” I remember that I should be screaming in pain. “AHHHHH!”

    I drop down as some primal instinct alerts me to the coming danger. An object flies through the space my torso had just occupied. A blur impacts the wall and goes straight through it. The man climbs out of the resulting hole and that is when I know for certain this loop is a failure.

    He looks at me in smug satisfaction as he slowly approaches step by step and I start matching his pace step by step. I look at place my poor missing finger had previously been attached.

    “I don’t know who you are but you’re going to regret fucking with me.” The man lets out a bellowing laugh. “Well, I’m sure you’ll have plenty of time to ponder how much of a massive fuck up you are in hell.”

    "Are you done excreting from your mouth?" I send a glare his way. “How much crap do you have to eat to vomit that much bullshit? I suppose it might come naturally when you’re just one giant asshole though.”

    "Choose Mel; save the city and prevent the coming calamity, flee the city and preserve the city like the spineless coward you are, or join the immortals in their quest for power." The worm spoke once more.
    I was back within the pink mists where everything had begun. Time had rewound itself to give me another chance at completing my task and-

    'That hurts!' I screech as one of the mouths grows teeth and bites me. It’s deeply uncomfortable being unable to pull away as it gnaws on me. 'Stop it!'

    “You looked to be having another existential crisis you did. So I, the great devourer of the abyss, had decided to awaken you from your daydreaming and brought you back to reality.” Two of the mouths starting chewing on my flesh. They tear and devour my muscle only for the tissue to reform and be bitten into again. “Where’s your gratitude? Where’s your greeting; not even a hello? Are we not closer than even the most intimate of lovers? Are we not a fated pair of the highest order? Well?!?! WELL!?!?!”

    ‘OPTION ONE!’

    “AHHHH!” The worm screeches as I’m consumed by one of its mouths. “You’re the asshole!”

    Darkness consumes me as I’m tossed back into my mortal coil. I fall forward and land on my knees as my consciousness returns to me. I vomit before closing my eyes and leaning against my desk.

    “Guess it was mad.”

    Usually it isn’t this rough when I enter back into the loop. I close my eyes and lean against my chair. I get up and change my clothes before heading out. It doesn’t matter whether I clean up or not. It’ll all be reset once this loop ends.

    I hail a taxi. I’m not in the mood for anymore action at the moment and would like to spend a few hours longer resting. The car arrives and I give him the street the woman had been sighted at. I have no chance of beating the man without repeating the loop a sickening number of times so I might as well try my luck with that eastern priestess.

    I scrape together the last scent in my wallet and pay the driver. There’s a nearby park and I look around until I find a dilapidated phone booth. I check my watch. I’ll wait another ten minutes before calling. If they got here too early I’d have to spend far too much time dealing with them. I tap my foot as I wait. My mind is still restless.

    Now is the time. I make the call and claim someone’s been stabbed. I give them the street address before closing the line. I wait. The police arrive and I approach one of the officers.

    “Howdy officer!” I put on my best winning smile. “What brings you here on this fine day?”

    “We got a call about some knife attack.” The cop says. “You know anything about that?”

    “No, can’t say I do.” I approach him with my hands to my sides and clearly visible. “Why does the falcon fly from the east to rest on the sleeping giant’s nose?”

    My hand blurs as I crush his throat and use him as a shield against his partner. I look around and see an ambulance parked in the distance and another police car arriving. Tsk. I pull the man’s gun and fire at his partner as he tries to duck behind the vehicle. I’m not a very good shot and I miss completely.

    On second thought this probably wasn’t a very good idea. I should’ve just called the cops and sicced them on her. Trying to steal the gun was a mistake on my part. I’ll just have to use him as a hostage. I back off into a wooded area as I point a gun at my dead hostage while hoping they don’t notice that he’d already passed away.

    “Back off or I shoot!” I shout at the top of my lungs. “I’m serious!”

    Like this we end up in a standoff for a good ten or twenty minutes. The woman appears. This is my chance. I begin emptying my magazine into her as… The bullets stop midair and I’m ignored.

    “Dang it.” I drop the body as I sigh. I give the dead officer a glance and wince. “No worries buddy. You’ll be good as new once all this is over.”

    The cops fire at me after a brief pause. My chest is pierce by multiple rounds as I fall back. They approach to check on their friend. I move and try to fire. More bullets impact me as I realize I’d already emptied my magazine on that woman. I fall back down and play dead again. They check me before taking away my gun and switchblade. My clothes are then cut off and my body examined. I’m brought into the back of the ambulance on a backboard. A collar is placed around my neck. An oxygen mask is put on my face as they take my vitals and cover me in a blanket.

    I get up and grab the officer’s neck as I choke him into unconsciousness. I smile at the paramedic. I take off the mask but keep the blanket in order to preserve my dignity. I grab another blanket and tie the cop’s wrists and ankles together with it. I pick up an oxygen canister.

    “Mind driving me to Westfield?” I ask the driver. “I’ll tell you where to stop.”

    I give the canister a few swings as I experiment with using it as a club. The handle is pretty bad. Hard to get a good grip on the thing.

    “Sir, that’s pressurized oxygen.” The paramedic says. He’s a well-built man dressed in a navy blue EMS shirt and regular cargo pants with a radio strapped on. His hands have a pair of orange gloves on them. “It’s possible for it to explode if mishandled.”

    “Mhmm, thanks.” I nod as I continue waving it around. “Don’t answer your radio.”

    “Do you have a knife or anything?” I frown as the radio begins sounding. “What about those scissors you used to cut my shirt? Give them to me.”

    I stare at the paramedic and he complies. I take the weapon and look at my chest. I cut off the dressings and bandages before examining my gunshot wounds. They’re somewhat hard to find but I’ve always had a good eye so I’m sure I’ll manage.

    “What are you doing?” The paramedic asks. “I recommend you don’t-“

    I remove the dressing before I begin cutting into my flesh to dig the bullets out. It doesn’t go well. While the ones in my chest got stuck in my muscle, making them easy to pull out, the rest had hit my abdomen and depending on the location where they’d hit the bullets had managed to make their way into my organs. I was this unable to pull them out and just ended up stabbing myself in the gut a bunch.

    “That didn’t work.” I look at the ruined pair of scissors glumly. “Broke them too…”

    The paramedic looks like he wants to say something but keeps quiet. I’ve probably made quite the fool of myself just now. I start whistling as I squeeze my way into the passenger seat. My blood stains the ambulance. I’m not going to die but I sure do feel light-headed. I’d become quite experienced in judging these kinds of things by now. Wait, when did I become experienced in getting stabbed? That’s super lame. Must be something from my mysterious past. Yep, I’m not related to that guy who made a habit of getting cut up. That’s someone else.

    “Whoa, black betty. Bam-ba-lam…”

    I begin singing for the rest of the trip. At one point I took their radios and threw them out the door. They were getting on my nerves.

    “Thanks for the help.” I smile at the girl driving. “Mhmm, this feels familiar.”

    I jump out the door as we’re driving for style points. I bounce off the ground and roll. My blanket is ripped in the process. I fasten it around my private area as a loin cloth. I lean against the wall of a building near where I’d first seen the man and wait for him to pass by again.

    There he is. He looks at me and turns away. He’s heading in the opposite direction of me. Have I been recognized?

    “Oi!” I approach him and he only walks faster. “Get back here and kill me!”

    “What the hell?!?!?!”

    He runs faster as I chase after him. He’s not displaying the same mind breaking levels of speed he’d shown during our last meeting. It makes sense. He’s a mage after all and practicing the art is very illegal. His pace quickens as I chase after him and we blaze through pedestrians at an absurd rate. If I had to estimate a speed I’d say we were going around thirty miles an hour.

    Bang. A bullet hits the side of my head and I tumble to the ground. With a raging headache I pull myself back up onto my feet and continue chasing my quarry.

    “Arty! We’re trying to be discreet!” The man yells. “You can’t just shoot people!”

    “Any chance at stealth died the moment this naked weirdo started chasing you!” A voice yells from the distance. Bang. Another shot hits impacts my cranium. “I think I got him this time.”

    Just to spite her I get back up again. I’d planned on giving up but this whole loop is probably lost anyway. Might as well follow my heart and persist unto the bitter end.

    A green light shines down and I look up. Hovering above the city is a massive shining orb of green. My target has also stopped to gawk at the spectacle. Air is sucked in towards the sphere. The man’s form blurs as he fires himself into a nearby house. I decide to follow behind him.

    I head downstairs into the basement as the wind howl in fury. The entire building shakes as I hear a chorus of screams in the background. Guess I’ve found out what it is that destroys the city.

    “What in the seven heavens was that?” I ask the man.

    “How the fuck should I know?”

    The sound of the wind ceases and in its place, the earth begins to shake. Thump. Everything falls from the shelf. Thump. Dust falls from the sealing as the shaking intensifies further. THUMP. I’m knocked to the ground and when I look up the ceiling is gone.

    I look up to see a massive figure standing well over a thousand feet in height. His body glows with a rainbow of colors. His body has no genitals but is covered in well defined muscle. The face is androgynous, and its hair is a long beautiful glowing white.

    I’m back with the white worm.

    “How’d I die?”
     
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