I awoke with a jolt. A second of confusion, and then everything flooded back to me: Baba Yaga, Calla, Mr. the Deathless, the sword, capture, bleeding-how long had I been asleep?!
I jumped up, feeling an adrenaline rush-and nearly fell over as my vision became covered with colored spots. I used my left hand to grip the chair, but finally had to slump to the floor and lie down for a few minutes until I could see straight again.
Right; let’s try this again. First of all, better check my hand.
I pulled it up from my chest, where somehow I’d been able to keep it for all this time, and took a look. Thank goodness, the bleeding had stopped. Now it was just clotted with a lot of dried blood.
I miss Xen.
I tried to make some sort of noise; the spell, however, had not worn off, making it impossible even to croak. Not that I really needed my voice at the moment. It would just be nice to have it back eventually, you know? I decided to focus on getting out of here.
Now that I was actually free, and wearing the shaded glasses, I could see that my prison was made out of some kind of stained glass. It was actually quite pretty, now that it wasn’t searing my retinas and I wasn’t tied to a chair. The voices were back, too; to my surprise, their conversation made me suspect they were the voices of tourists.
“Come look at this!”
“How long do you think it took them to make that?”
“Derek! Come back here!”
“I’m bored…”
“Do you know if we can take pictures? All the signs are in Russian.”
And those were just in the languages I could understand.
My sense of smell was cut off by the glass, so I couldn’t tell if it was all an illusion or not. So I began looking around the room, trying to find any other potential spells or curses that might be set up. Eventually, in the far corner I found what looked like an alarm spell-probably set to go off if I broke the glass, since it hadn’t been triggered by my freeing myself from the chair.
Unless I just didn’t notice it went off, and he’s now watching me, waiting to see what I’ll do…
I’ve got to take that chance.
Quickly I found the loophole in the spell, and unraveled it. A very big risk, but it might buy me some time. Then I crouched down, and smashed a hole in the floor with my uninjured claw.
It turned out that I was forced to break a few more holes before it was big enough for me to squeeze out. But once I did so, I leaned my head and shoulders out, bracing my arms against the sides. Beneath me there appeared to be an entire horde of giant people walking around, examining Russian artwork. This startled me, before I realized: They aren’t giants. I’ve been shrunk!
One of the people had noticed the little shards of broken glass that had fallen, and had gone to a security guard; he was pointing at where I was, and I could make out the words, “...think the bulb burst...might want to get that fixed…”
I’m in a lightbulb? Must be something like that-those fancy stained glass light fixtures up top would do the trick, if Mr. the Deathless kept a tiny dimension or something inside one, like a genie bottle...Well, better get out of here before they come to investigate.
I jumped out of the hole I’d made in the glass, and glided down to the ground, ignoring the wave of dizziness that overcame me as a result. I landed in a corner of the room, by the doorway; a good thing, too, because a few seconds later I found myself growing back to normal size (thankfully along with my clothes).
That makes things a bit easier. Now, question: am I still in the right place?
I suddenly heard a voice call, “Stop that man!” and saw two frog-headed men* in Russian guardsman’s uniforms running toward me.
Yup, I’m in the right place.
Barely taking time to look at my surroundings, I turned into the first corridor I could find and ran.
*Disguised to any humans, of course.
Showing posts with label capture. Show all posts
Showing posts with label capture. Show all posts
Saturday, September 24, 2016
Wednesday, October 31, 2012
TANSTAV part 35
Chapter 10
All right, so I lied about dying, as you may have realized from the fact that I am still writing this book; however, I do nearly die, which is close enough. And almost get attacked by leeches in the bargain.
The first thought that entered my head upon feeling the bullet hit me was: Ouch. It was followed a few seconds later by: He shot me! And then I felt it explode into two bits, which flew out my shoulders (one of the nastier habits of splatter bullets), thankfully missing my wings. I looked down, and saw a huge crimson burst spreading across the left side of my stomach, where the bullet had hit. I lifted my hand to try and staunch the blood flow, but it seemed like time was slowing down. My hand moved with all the speed of a glacier on the move, and was trembling like I had Parkinson’s disease. Finally, I pressed it onto the wound, which shot a wave of pain through me. It was about then that I realized I was falling, my knees collapsing under me.
As I hit the ground, ultimately landing on my back, I caught a glimpse of Calla, her white face covered in horror, screaming my name.
She really is quite fond of me, I remember thinking. Poor girl. I hope she doesn't blame herself for this, and that Xen will take care of her. I wonder what Fleming's doing right now.
With unbearable slowness, I rolled my eyes over in his direction, and saw him staring back at me, with a very nasty grin of triumph. He lifted the splatter gun, and cocked it at me. I got the impression that he was going to shoot me again, maybe in the heart this time. By some miracle, the last bullet had missed it, instead hitting what felt like several other important vital organs. I stared back at him, wanting to go out bravely. And then, I saw an angel above Fleming. She must have been an avenging angel, because she was dive-bombing him. A gray avenging angel, with furry wings, and red and brown hair.
"You-" the angel screamed, as she landed on Fleming, ripping the splatter gun out of his hand, "-do not touch-" her lavender eyes blazed with fury- "-MY BOYFRIEND!!!!"
Oh, Xen, I love you, I thought, smiling dazedly. I'm sorry about leaving you like this.
She slammed Fleming really hard in his already-wounded shoulder and arm; he screamed so agonizingly that I almost felt some semblance of pity from him. Xen was becoming quite vicious, hitting and tearing at him so quick and fast that he obviously couldn't even think about using his magic. Calla ran across the room, probably to keep her from doing any permanent damage. Dear Calla; she was so tenderhearted, even for the bad guy.
It was at that moment that Jessup woke up. He blinked, and then sat up, obviously confused. It appeared that Fleming's hypnotic hold on him had been broken, probably because he was so distracted at the moment. The demon looked over at the altercation going on, glanced down on the altar he was on-and then he saw me. He looked shocked, but then an expression of utter delight lit up his heavy-lidded eyes.
Uh-oh.
Slowly, Jessup got down from the altar, and, neatly sidestepping Xen, who was still trying to kill Fleming, and Calla, who was trying to get her back under control, he came over to my cage. He pulled open the door, and crouched down by my side.
"Well, well, well!" he purred. "In a spot of trouble, aren't you, Wormwood?"
"Oh, it’s not that bad," I croaked unconvincingly.
Jessup chuckled.
"It doesn't look like you'll last the night," he said, making polite conversation.
"Yeah, that's what they said about the Star-Spangled Banner," I shot back. My vision was becoming awfully hazy, which made it hard to see his stupid sideways smirk.
"True, true. But you're losing an awful lot of lifeblood, Wormwood. Far more than can be good for you."
He contemplated me for a moment, and then murmured, “There are so many ways I could kill you right now. I could, perhaps, break your neck, just like this.” He placed one hand on the top of my head, and the other around my throat. “I could jerk one hand left, the other right, and snap! No more you.” It was an echo of our conversation in his cell; I was sure he was doing it on purpose, as a cruel irony. My slowly fading pulse got a few extra jumps in; I hoped he didn't notice my fear, as it would only spur him on. With my luck, he did.
“Or maybe I could just throttle you.” Both hands became wrapped around my throat, and he squeezed gently. It was enough to start cutting my breathing off, so by the time he took them away, I was gasping a bit.
“Or, if I got my hands on one of those excellent scalpels our captor must have lying around, I could slit your carotid artery: quick, and efficient-”
“Just pick one already!” I growled. “I get it, I’m at your mercy, blah, blah, blah!”
Jessup clucked his tongue, and furrowed his eyebrows at me.
“You've always had a mouth that was unable to close once it was opened, Wormwood. But don’t fear, I’ve already decided your death. And I intend for it to linger for as long as you’ve got left.”
With that, he stood up, and exited my cage, going into the one containing the leeches. Grabbing a nearby pair of tongs, he snatched up a couple, and, holding them at arm’s length, began meandering back to me. Somehow, my companions were so involved in handling Fleming, they noticed nothing. I tried to move, or cry out, or something, but I was so weak, it was nearly impossible.
Jessup entered the cage, and dangled the leeches over me; they began thrashing around eagerly, obviously smelling my blood.
"These leeches must be enchanted so that they can drink your type of blood," the demon observed. Since gargoyle blood has a temperature of over 128 degrees Fahrenheit, and gives severe burns to anyone who touches it, except other gargoyles, that did seem like the only plausible explanation.
Jessup suddenly lifted my hand off the hole in my gut. I was unable to do anything about it, because I was as weak as a baby sparrow. Dangling the leech-bearing tongs over my wound, he said, "You know, it's almost a shame you're going to die like this. You were my greatest opponent."
"Just get on with it, you plant-spawn!" I spat. For a demon, that is one of the worst insults you can call him without resorting to outright cursing. Apparently there's this old myth in their culture about a demon born from a union between his father and a woman born from a tree (reminiscent of a dryad), and when he was fully grown, he caused 1000 years of destruction of the demons somehow. So to call a demon plant-spawn (or son/daughter of a plant) is to ask for death. But since I was dying anyway, I figured I had nothing to lose, and might as well tick him off on my way out. Jessup lost the smirk; giving me a hate-filled glare, he began to lower the hungry leeches to the wound.
Without warning, he flew backwards, as if a giant hand had smacked him, slamming into the wall. The tongs (with the leeches still attached, thank goodness) were wrenched by something unseen out of his hand, and zoomed back into the tank.
"Oh, no you don't!" an angry female voice shouted. To my surprise, I recognized it as Calla! She marched over, hands clenched into tiny fists. Then she waved her left hand, and the cage containing the Ghul burst open. The creature scrambled out in terror, and fled the house. She let him go, and instead used her power to push Jessup into the cage, which relocked itself. After that, I didn't see any more of what was happening over there; suddenly Xen was by my side, staring down at me.
With all the willpower I could muster, and the last ounces of strength in my body, I reached up and touched her face, caressing it.
"You're beautiful, my angel," I whispered.
Sniffling, she croaked, "You keep getting yourself into the biggest messes, don't you, Tristan?"
Then, grasping my hand tightly in one of her her own for a moment, she tore open my shirt and quickly began making incisions throughout my chest cavity with her claws.
All right, so I lied about dying, as you may have realized from the fact that I am still writing this book; however, I do nearly die, which is close enough. And almost get attacked by leeches in the bargain.
The first thought that entered my head upon feeling the bullet hit me was: Ouch. It was followed a few seconds later by: He shot me! And then I felt it explode into two bits, which flew out my shoulders (one of the nastier habits of splatter bullets), thankfully missing my wings. I looked down, and saw a huge crimson burst spreading across the left side of my stomach, where the bullet had hit. I lifted my hand to try and staunch the blood flow, but it seemed like time was slowing down. My hand moved with all the speed of a glacier on the move, and was trembling like I had Parkinson’s disease. Finally, I pressed it onto the wound, which shot a wave of pain through me. It was about then that I realized I was falling, my knees collapsing under me.
As I hit the ground, ultimately landing on my back, I caught a glimpse of Calla, her white face covered in horror, screaming my name.
She really is quite fond of me, I remember thinking. Poor girl. I hope she doesn't blame herself for this, and that Xen will take care of her. I wonder what Fleming's doing right now.
With unbearable slowness, I rolled my eyes over in his direction, and saw him staring back at me, with a very nasty grin of triumph. He lifted the splatter gun, and cocked it at me. I got the impression that he was going to shoot me again, maybe in the heart this time. By some miracle, the last bullet had missed it, instead hitting what felt like several other important vital organs. I stared back at him, wanting to go out bravely. And then, I saw an angel above Fleming. She must have been an avenging angel, because she was dive-bombing him. A gray avenging angel, with furry wings, and red and brown hair.
"You-" the angel screamed, as she landed on Fleming, ripping the splatter gun out of his hand, "-do not touch-" her lavender eyes blazed with fury- "-MY BOYFRIEND!!!!"
Oh, Xen, I love you, I thought, smiling dazedly. I'm sorry about leaving you like this.
She slammed Fleming really hard in his already-wounded shoulder and arm; he screamed so agonizingly that I almost felt some semblance of pity from him. Xen was becoming quite vicious, hitting and tearing at him so quick and fast that he obviously couldn't even think about using his magic. Calla ran across the room, probably to keep her from doing any permanent damage. Dear Calla; she was so tenderhearted, even for the bad guy.
It was at that moment that Jessup woke up. He blinked, and then sat up, obviously confused. It appeared that Fleming's hypnotic hold on him had been broken, probably because he was so distracted at the moment. The demon looked over at the altercation going on, glanced down on the altar he was on-and then he saw me. He looked shocked, but then an expression of utter delight lit up his heavy-lidded eyes.
Uh-oh.
Slowly, Jessup got down from the altar, and, neatly sidestepping Xen, who was still trying to kill Fleming, and Calla, who was trying to get her back under control, he came over to my cage. He pulled open the door, and crouched down by my side.
"Well, well, well!" he purred. "In a spot of trouble, aren't you, Wormwood?"
"Oh, it’s not that bad," I croaked unconvincingly.
Jessup chuckled.
"It doesn't look like you'll last the night," he said, making polite conversation.
"Yeah, that's what they said about the Star-Spangled Banner," I shot back. My vision was becoming awfully hazy, which made it hard to see his stupid sideways smirk.
"True, true. But you're losing an awful lot of lifeblood, Wormwood. Far more than can be good for you."
He contemplated me for a moment, and then murmured, “There are so many ways I could kill you right now. I could, perhaps, break your neck, just like this.” He placed one hand on the top of my head, and the other around my throat. “I could jerk one hand left, the other right, and snap! No more you.” It was an echo of our conversation in his cell; I was sure he was doing it on purpose, as a cruel irony. My slowly fading pulse got a few extra jumps in; I hoped he didn't notice my fear, as it would only spur him on. With my luck, he did.
“Or maybe I could just throttle you.” Both hands became wrapped around my throat, and he squeezed gently. It was enough to start cutting my breathing off, so by the time he took them away, I was gasping a bit.
“Or, if I got my hands on one of those excellent scalpels our captor must have lying around, I could slit your carotid artery: quick, and efficient-”
“Just pick one already!” I growled. “I get it, I’m at your mercy, blah, blah, blah!”
Jessup clucked his tongue, and furrowed his eyebrows at me.
“You've always had a mouth that was unable to close once it was opened, Wormwood. But don’t fear, I’ve already decided your death. And I intend for it to linger for as long as you’ve got left.”
With that, he stood up, and exited my cage, going into the one containing the leeches. Grabbing a nearby pair of tongs, he snatched up a couple, and, holding them at arm’s length, began meandering back to me. Somehow, my companions were so involved in handling Fleming, they noticed nothing. I tried to move, or cry out, or something, but I was so weak, it was nearly impossible.
Jessup entered the cage, and dangled the leeches over me; they began thrashing around eagerly, obviously smelling my blood.
"These leeches must be enchanted so that they can drink your type of blood," the demon observed. Since gargoyle blood has a temperature of over 128 degrees Fahrenheit, and gives severe burns to anyone who touches it, except other gargoyles, that did seem like the only plausible explanation.
Jessup suddenly lifted my hand off the hole in my gut. I was unable to do anything about it, because I was as weak as a baby sparrow. Dangling the leech-bearing tongs over my wound, he said, "You know, it's almost a shame you're going to die like this. You were my greatest opponent."
"Just get on with it, you plant-spawn!" I spat. For a demon, that is one of the worst insults you can call him without resorting to outright cursing. Apparently there's this old myth in their culture about a demon born from a union between his father and a woman born from a tree (reminiscent of a dryad), and when he was fully grown, he caused 1000 years of destruction of the demons somehow. So to call a demon plant-spawn (or son/daughter of a plant) is to ask for death. But since I was dying anyway, I figured I had nothing to lose, and might as well tick him off on my way out. Jessup lost the smirk; giving me a hate-filled glare, he began to lower the hungry leeches to the wound.
Without warning, he flew backwards, as if a giant hand had smacked him, slamming into the wall. The tongs (with the leeches still attached, thank goodness) were wrenched by something unseen out of his hand, and zoomed back into the tank.
"Oh, no you don't!" an angry female voice shouted. To my surprise, I recognized it as Calla! She marched over, hands clenched into tiny fists. Then she waved her left hand, and the cage containing the Ghul burst open. The creature scrambled out in terror, and fled the house. She let him go, and instead used her power to push Jessup into the cage, which relocked itself. After that, I didn't see any more of what was happening over there; suddenly Xen was by my side, staring down at me.
With all the willpower I could muster, and the last ounces of strength in my body, I reached up and touched her face, caressing it.
"You're beautiful, my angel," I whispered.
Sniffling, she croaked, "You keep getting yourself into the biggest messes, don't you, Tristan?"
Then, grasping my hand tightly in one of her her own for a moment, she tore open my shirt and quickly began making incisions throughout my chest cavity with her claws.
Sunday, October 21, 2012
TANSTAV part 31
Chapter 9 part 2
I wasn't sure whether or not to be glad there was no one else around. Because on the one hand, it meant we were going into the lion's den unprotected, and nobody would know where we were; on the other hand, if there was anyone who happened to see us, and Fleming noticed, he would probably kill or capture them, too. So maybe it was for the best.
We were taken at gunpoint into his house (it looked like any other house on the street, except for the fact that it had two lightning rods instead of one-odd), and then had to stand against the wall in the hallway while Jessup tied our hands behind us, with enchanted unbreakable ropes. I hated feeling so helpless; it reminded me too much of back when I had been living with my parents, and at my father's mercy, so to speak. Stupid, stupid, stupid! Why hadn't I looked for the possibility of a trap?!
It's because you're too impulsive, Tristan, the nagging voice at the back of my head said. You need to learn to use your head for something other than to hold up your ears!
Shut up, I told it. This isn't helping.
Well, what do you want me to say?
I don't want you to say anything. Didn't you hear me just tell you to shut up?
At that moment, Jessup shoved me in the back with the gun, ending (temporarily) my internal conversation. Must have been very frustrating for him, having me within his grasp, and unable to do what he wanted to me, merely acting under the orders of a crazed mage. That is, if he was even aware of anything that was happening. You never can tell with hypnotized people.
The five of us left the hall, and entered the living room-only the living room was gone. The furniture had all been moved out, and the place was basically bare, except for what looked like a sacrificial altar in the center of the room, surrounded by five cages. Inside two of the cages were the senator, and the Fonin! Both of them looked the worse for wear; they had lost weight, and were distinctly shabby. They stood at the bars of their cages, staring woefully out at us. Two other cages contained a Ghul, and some small, strange, dark creatures of the phylum Annelida inside a glass container full of water. The fifth cage was empty. Something about their positioning made me wonder...I looked down, and saw that the cages were set at each of the points of a colossal star drawn by chalk, inside of a giant circle.
You have got to be kidding, I thought. This guy is using a pentacle!
(In magical jargon, a pentacle is a symbol of a star inside a circle, and apparently has magic properties. Can be used for summoning things, among other dark rituals. Very commonly used during the Renaissance and medieval ages. There has been some doubt as to their effectiveness, as they are very unwieldy objects.)
Fleming gestured to Jessup, who began leading Xen and Calla over to a wall by the side of the pentacle. Thinking maybe he'd forgotten me, I began to follow.
"Not you, Wormwood," said Fleming. "You come over here." He gestured to the fifth cage.
"What? Why me?"
"Why did you think I tried to kidnap your girlfriend?" he asked disdainfully.
"Uh, technically, she's not my girlfriend, and I assumed it was for whatever you were doing to the others," I replied. I was beginning to see where this was going.
Ignoring me, he continued, "It was to get to you. I needed you to complete this experiment, and knew you would do anything to keep her safe."
"Why couldn't you just use Xen?" I asked, staying where I was.
Looking impatient and annoyed, Fleming gestured to the cage imperiously with the splatter gun.
"I wasn't going to use her dirty half-breed blood! I need a full gargoyle, and you were the closest one available! Now get in the cage BEFORE I HAVE JESSUP BLOW HER AND THE GIRL'S BRAINS OUT!!!!"
I gritted my fangs at the slight to Xen's heritage, but I slowly went to the cage, stumbling a little on my way.
Once inside the cage (which he neglected to lock, probably because I was bound), I asked, "Before you do-whatever it is, can I ask what you are planning to do to us?"
Fleming grinned wickedly, taking the opportunity to rub his wounded side.
"You, my dear Wormwood, are going to be the final piece in this great revolution of mine. I now have the strength of a troll, the shapeshifting powers of a Fonin, the fangs and tracking ability of a Ghul, the near-impenetrable skin of a gargoyle, and the bloodthirstiness of leeches!"
"What about Jessup?" I asked, gesturing over to him with my head. He was still guarding the girls, his face still blank. You know, without his sardonic grin, he was a bit nicer-looking.
"The demon? I need his body."
I raised my eyebrow.
"Does that sound as disturbing to you two as it does to me?" I asked the girls. Xen nodded, while Calla just stood there, looking frightened.
Fleming glared at me.
"He is going to be the host."
"For what?"
"Using all six of you," he said, gesturing to my fellow prisoners and the demon, "I am going to create," his voice rose to an incredible pitch in his excitement, "A VAMPIRE!"
I wasn't sure whether or not to be glad there was no one else around. Because on the one hand, it meant we were going into the lion's den unprotected, and nobody would know where we were; on the other hand, if there was anyone who happened to see us, and Fleming noticed, he would probably kill or capture them, too. So maybe it was for the best.
We were taken at gunpoint into his house (it looked like any other house on the street, except for the fact that it had two lightning rods instead of one-odd), and then had to stand against the wall in the hallway while Jessup tied our hands behind us, with enchanted unbreakable ropes. I hated feeling so helpless; it reminded me too much of back when I had been living with my parents, and at my father's mercy, so to speak. Stupid, stupid, stupid! Why hadn't I looked for the possibility of a trap?!
It's because you're too impulsive, Tristan, the nagging voice at the back of my head said. You need to learn to use your head for something other than to hold up your ears!
Shut up, I told it. This isn't helping.
Well, what do you want me to say?
I don't want you to say anything. Didn't you hear me just tell you to shut up?
At that moment, Jessup shoved me in the back with the gun, ending (temporarily) my internal conversation. Must have been very frustrating for him, having me within his grasp, and unable to do what he wanted to me, merely acting under the orders of a crazed mage. That is, if he was even aware of anything that was happening. You never can tell with hypnotized people.
The five of us left the hall, and entered the living room-only the living room was gone. The furniture had all been moved out, and the place was basically bare, except for what looked like a sacrificial altar in the center of the room, surrounded by five cages. Inside two of the cages were the senator, and the Fonin! Both of them looked the worse for wear; they had lost weight, and were distinctly shabby. They stood at the bars of their cages, staring woefully out at us. Two other cages contained a Ghul, and some small, strange, dark creatures of the phylum Annelida inside a glass container full of water. The fifth cage was empty. Something about their positioning made me wonder...I looked down, and saw that the cages were set at each of the points of a colossal star drawn by chalk, inside of a giant circle.
You have got to be kidding, I thought. This guy is using a pentacle!
(In magical jargon, a pentacle is a symbol of a star inside a circle, and apparently has magic properties. Can be used for summoning things, among other dark rituals. Very commonly used during the Renaissance and medieval ages. There has been some doubt as to their effectiveness, as they are very unwieldy objects.)
Fleming gestured to Jessup, who began leading Xen and Calla over to a wall by the side of the pentacle. Thinking maybe he'd forgotten me, I began to follow.
"Not you, Wormwood," said Fleming. "You come over here." He gestured to the fifth cage.
"What? Why me?"
"Why did you think I tried to kidnap your girlfriend?" he asked disdainfully.
"Uh, technically, she's not my girlfriend, and I assumed it was for whatever you were doing to the others," I replied. I was beginning to see where this was going.
Ignoring me, he continued, "It was to get to you. I needed you to complete this experiment, and knew you would do anything to keep her safe."
"Why couldn't you just use Xen?" I asked, staying where I was.
Looking impatient and annoyed, Fleming gestured to the cage imperiously with the splatter gun.
"I wasn't going to use her dirty half-breed blood! I need a full gargoyle, and you were the closest one available! Now get in the cage BEFORE I HAVE JESSUP BLOW HER AND THE GIRL'S BRAINS OUT!!!!"
I gritted my fangs at the slight to Xen's heritage, but I slowly went to the cage, stumbling a little on my way.
Once inside the cage (which he neglected to lock, probably because I was bound), I asked, "Before you do-whatever it is, can I ask what you are planning to do to us?"
Fleming grinned wickedly, taking the opportunity to rub his wounded side.
"You, my dear Wormwood, are going to be the final piece in this great revolution of mine. I now have the strength of a troll, the shapeshifting powers of a Fonin, the fangs and tracking ability of a Ghul, the near-impenetrable skin of a gargoyle, and the bloodthirstiness of leeches!"
"What about Jessup?" I asked, gesturing over to him with my head. He was still guarding the girls, his face still blank. You know, without his sardonic grin, he was a bit nicer-looking.
"The demon? I need his body."
I raised my eyebrow.
"Does that sound as disturbing to you two as it does to me?" I asked the girls. Xen nodded, while Calla just stood there, looking frightened.
Fleming glared at me.
"He is going to be the host."
"For what?"
"Using all six of you," he said, gesturing to my fellow prisoners and the demon, "I am going to create," his voice rose to an incredible pitch in his excitement, "A VAMPIRE!"
Wednesday, October 17, 2012
TANSTAV part 30
Chapter Nine
In which we discover the horrible truth, and then I die
Calla showed Xen next; then we all looked at each other.
"I didn't see this coming," I finally said. "Did you?"
Both girls shook their heads. Though, as I thought about it, it began to make more sense. I remembered that when I had been on the Skald property, I had caught a familiar scent in the air, before Jessup’s footprints distracted me. It was only now that I recalled whose smell it had been: Fleming’s (yes, it was Fleming. I congratulate you if you were able to successfully guess that it was him). There was only one logical explanation for why he had been at the crime scene just as it was being committed, and I was staring it in the face.
“So,” asked Calla, “what do we do now?”
“We confront him,” I replied. “We’re not the official police, but we can still capture him and bring him in.”
"Okay."
However, for several moments, we just sat there in silence. We were all a little...hesitant to make the first move. Not that we were scared or anything. It was just that actually confronting this guy made us a tad nervous. In the end, I was the first to get up. And, leaving the evidence there, we exited the forensics room, and went out into the main lobby.
I saw Morty sitting at his desk, typing on his computer, bobbing his head in time with whatever music was playing through his iPod.
"Hi, Tristan," he said, looking up.
"Hey. How're things going?"
"Not too bad. Only a minimal amount of killings, thefts, etc. this week. Xen, are you okay?”
“I’m fine, thanks.”
“Good. How's your missing person investigation going, Tristan?”
"I might have a lead. I just need to get help from-" I glanced around the station. "Where's Fleming?"
"He hasn't been in. Apparently he got in an accident of some kind, had to stay home."
I and Xen both tried not to snort. Oh, he’d gotten in an accident, all right. If you called being stabbed with a palette knife by a young woman trying to defend herself against you an accident.
Unconcerned, and apparently not even curious as to why we wanted Fleming, the Reaper began playing solitaire on the computer.
“Thanks,” I said as we went away. He grunted slightly.
Fleming lived on the southeast side of Styxburg, at 666 Shelley Avenue. It would be easiest to get there by flying, but there was the problem of Calla, who couldn't fly, and also that there seemed to be a storm coming; to fly in that kind of weather would be potentially suicidal. So we took the bus. It was a rather long drive, which gave me time to think that maybe we should have gotten police backup, since this guy was obviously dangerous. Well, Morty knew where we were going...then I remembered that he had been playing solitaire. Once he got absorbed in a card game, he had a tendency to temporarily forget anything that had been said to him in the last twenty minutes. It was a bad habit that Ishida had talked to him about several times, and that might have gotten him kicked out of the police force if he weren't so good at what he did. No, we couldn't expect any help from him.
We got off the bus about a block down the street from our destination, just to be safe. Then I pulled out my phone, and made a quick call. I didn't have long to wait.
"Wormwood, what is it?" asked Ishida grumpily.
"I'm pretty sure I'm about to capture a dangerous criminal who has kidnapped at least two people."
"What?! WHO?!" I heard whooshing noises through the receiver that sounded a lot like two flames spurting from the nostrils of an alarmed police chief.
"Well, you're not going to believe this, but it's-"
My phone flew out of my hand, and smashed itself to pieces on the sidewalk. Dang, that was the second one that had been destroyed on the job! I looked at the others in alarm, when my attention was all at once drawn to a small man who had appeared just in front of us, his arm and shoulder wrapped in bandages, but with a splatter gun in his good hand, pointed at me (Note: a splatter gun is a very nasty weapon invented during our version of the Cold War, designed to produce whatever amount of bullets the shooter wants to hit his [just for argument's sake, let's say it's a him] target[s], and upon impact, does a small explosion from inside the body, causing a very nasty, grisly death if the target is alive. The splatter bullets are able to pierce even gargoyle hide, making them particularly dangerous).
"I presume you know what this is, and what it does," sneered Fleming, in a voice that was very different from his typical whiny, prissy tones. "So I hope none of you will try to be a hero. Even if you had such thoughts, my, shall we say, operative is here as well." He gestured with the gun; we turned to see Jessup, eyes glazed, standing behind us, also wielding a splatter gun.
"Unfortunately, my hypnotism is only effective on demons. So I am forced to deal with you in this unsophisticated manner. Please come with us (as if we had any choice). You are just in time to witness my glory!"
In which we discover the horrible truth, and then I die
Calla showed Xen next; then we all looked at each other.
"I didn't see this coming," I finally said. "Did you?"
Both girls shook their heads. Though, as I thought about it, it began to make more sense. I remembered that when I had been on the Skald property, I had caught a familiar scent in the air, before Jessup’s footprints distracted me. It was only now that I recalled whose smell it had been: Fleming’s (yes, it was Fleming. I congratulate you if you were able to successfully guess that it was him). There was only one logical explanation for why he had been at the crime scene just as it was being committed, and I was staring it in the face.
“So,” asked Calla, “what do we do now?”
“We confront him,” I replied. “We’re not the official police, but we can still capture him and bring him in.”
"Okay."
However, for several moments, we just sat there in silence. We were all a little...hesitant to make the first move. Not that we were scared or anything. It was just that actually confronting this guy made us a tad nervous. In the end, I was the first to get up. And, leaving the evidence there, we exited the forensics room, and went out into the main lobby.
I saw Morty sitting at his desk, typing on his computer, bobbing his head in time with whatever music was playing through his iPod.
"Hi, Tristan," he said, looking up.
"Hey. How're things going?"
"Not too bad. Only a minimal amount of killings, thefts, etc. this week. Xen, are you okay?”
“I’m fine, thanks.”
“Good. How's your missing person investigation going, Tristan?”
"I might have a lead. I just need to get help from-" I glanced around the station. "Where's Fleming?"
"He hasn't been in. Apparently he got in an accident of some kind, had to stay home."
I and Xen both tried not to snort. Oh, he’d gotten in an accident, all right. If you called being stabbed with a palette knife by a young woman trying to defend herself against you an accident.
Unconcerned, and apparently not even curious as to why we wanted Fleming, the Reaper began playing solitaire on the computer.
“Thanks,” I said as we went away. He grunted slightly.
Fleming lived on the southeast side of Styxburg, at 666 Shelley Avenue. It would be easiest to get there by flying, but there was the problem of Calla, who couldn't fly, and also that there seemed to be a storm coming; to fly in that kind of weather would be potentially suicidal. So we took the bus. It was a rather long drive, which gave me time to think that maybe we should have gotten police backup, since this guy was obviously dangerous. Well, Morty knew where we were going...then I remembered that he had been playing solitaire. Once he got absorbed in a card game, he had a tendency to temporarily forget anything that had been said to him in the last twenty minutes. It was a bad habit that Ishida had talked to him about several times, and that might have gotten him kicked out of the police force if he weren't so good at what he did. No, we couldn't expect any help from him.
We got off the bus about a block down the street from our destination, just to be safe. Then I pulled out my phone, and made a quick call. I didn't have long to wait.
"Wormwood, what is it?" asked Ishida grumpily.
"I'm pretty sure I'm about to capture a dangerous criminal who has kidnapped at least two people."
"What?! WHO?!" I heard whooshing noises through the receiver that sounded a lot like two flames spurting from the nostrils of an alarmed police chief.
"Well, you're not going to believe this, but it's-"
My phone flew out of my hand, and smashed itself to pieces on the sidewalk. Dang, that was the second one that had been destroyed on the job! I looked at the others in alarm, when my attention was all at once drawn to a small man who had appeared just in front of us, his arm and shoulder wrapped in bandages, but with a splatter gun in his good hand, pointed at me (Note: a splatter gun is a very nasty weapon invented during our version of the Cold War, designed to produce whatever amount of bullets the shooter wants to hit his [just for argument's sake, let's say it's a him] target[s], and upon impact, does a small explosion from inside the body, causing a very nasty, grisly death if the target is alive. The splatter bullets are able to pierce even gargoyle hide, making them particularly dangerous).
"I presume you know what this is, and what it does," sneered Fleming, in a voice that was very different from his typical whiny, prissy tones. "So I hope none of you will try to be a hero. Even if you had such thoughts, my, shall we say, operative is here as well." He gestured with the gun; we turned to see Jessup, eyes glazed, standing behind us, also wielding a splatter gun.
"Unfortunately, my hypnotism is only effective on demons. So I am forced to deal with you in this unsophisticated manner. Please come with us (as if we had any choice). You are just in time to witness my glory!"
Wednesday, March 21, 2012
Freegans part 58
Cara
My life, what I could remember of it, flashed before my eyes. I know, that's an extremely cliche phrase, but that's what I experienced. I had memories from when I was seven, doing the project with Matt and Lucy...that time when I was twelve, and Matt accidentally hit me in the head with an old croquet mallet, giving me a concussion...the time when I paid him back (accidentally, I assure you) by breaking his nose with a badly aimed hockey stick...the first time I saw Madiza... There was other stuff too, lots of it, but I don't feel like revealing it all right now. I need to keep some things secret, you know.
Anyway, things looked bad. We were trapped like rats. There was nowhere to go, as we could see the leader of these soldiers (the guy in the red cap again-how I utterly detested him at this moment!) talking into a walkie-talkie, calling the Drones. The Drones! Suddenly, my heart gave a leap of hope. I remembered how Deep Thought kept tinkering around with them. But how many had he got? What if they got overwhelmed? My heart gave a sink of despair.
"Well, well, looks like the Resistance has been run to earth at last," Red Cap was saying. Great. Not only had he captured us, but now he wanted to gloat about it! I gave a small sigh. Why couldn't he just get it over with?!
"You have no idea how long I've waited for this moment. Frankly, I'm surprised there are so few of you." The dude strode forward, surveying us. The soldiers pointed the business ends of their plasma rifles at us, as a deterrent against any funny business.
"There are far more of us than you know," said the Ox coldly. He refused to show any signs of fear, for which I felt a wave of respect.
"Oh, I know that. But the way I see it, if you strike a major blow at the heart of an animal, the rest of it slowly dies."
Oh, now he was making irritating metaphors. I could feel my irritation rising. This was odd. I didn't feel afraid at all. Instead, I was just plain mad. We had not come all this way, and gone through so much, just to be stopped by some idiot who thought he was the next Benjamin Franklin!
Matt looked at me, and I knew that he could see I was planning on doing something stupid, because he gave an anxious shake of his head no.
I gave him a look that dared him to try and stop me. He gave me one in reply that said he would, if he had to pinion me to the floor. I shot back a look saying that we were probably going to die anyway, so what was the harm? Our facial argument was interrupted, when from behind us there was a loud blasting sound!
One of the soldiers fell to the ground, a gaping wound in his chest. We turned, and gasped as around thirty Drones came floating out the doorway, and began firing on the consumerists. I shot a glance at Deep Thought. He had a humongous smirk, like the cat that swallowed the canary. However, I had more important things to think about, like running like heck for the submarine, so I didn't spend much time looking.
My life, what I could remember of it, flashed before my eyes. I know, that's an extremely cliche phrase, but that's what I experienced. I had memories from when I was seven, doing the project with Matt and Lucy...that time when I was twelve, and Matt accidentally hit me in the head with an old croquet mallet, giving me a concussion...the time when I paid him back (accidentally, I assure you) by breaking his nose with a badly aimed hockey stick...the first time I saw Madiza... There was other stuff too, lots of it, but I don't feel like revealing it all right now. I need to keep some things secret, you know.
Anyway, things looked bad. We were trapped like rats. There was nowhere to go, as we could see the leader of these soldiers (the guy in the red cap again-how I utterly detested him at this moment!) talking into a walkie-talkie, calling the Drones. The Drones! Suddenly, my heart gave a leap of hope. I remembered how Deep Thought kept tinkering around with them. But how many had he got? What if they got overwhelmed? My heart gave a sink of despair.
"Well, well, looks like the Resistance has been run to earth at last," Red Cap was saying. Great. Not only had he captured us, but now he wanted to gloat about it! I gave a small sigh. Why couldn't he just get it over with?!
"You have no idea how long I've waited for this moment. Frankly, I'm surprised there are so few of you." The dude strode forward, surveying us. The soldiers pointed the business ends of their plasma rifles at us, as a deterrent against any funny business.
"There are far more of us than you know," said the Ox coldly. He refused to show any signs of fear, for which I felt a wave of respect.
"Oh, I know that. But the way I see it, if you strike a major blow at the heart of an animal, the rest of it slowly dies."
Oh, now he was making irritating metaphors. I could feel my irritation rising. This was odd. I didn't feel afraid at all. Instead, I was just plain mad. We had not come all this way, and gone through so much, just to be stopped by some idiot who thought he was the next Benjamin Franklin!
Matt looked at me, and I knew that he could see I was planning on doing something stupid, because he gave an anxious shake of his head no.
I gave him a look that dared him to try and stop me. He gave me one in reply that said he would, if he had to pinion me to the floor. I shot back a look saying that we were probably going to die anyway, so what was the harm? Our facial argument was interrupted, when from behind us there was a loud blasting sound!
One of the soldiers fell to the ground, a gaping wound in his chest. We turned, and gasped as around thirty Drones came floating out the doorway, and began firing on the consumerists. I shot a glance at Deep Thought. He had a humongous smirk, like the cat that swallowed the canary. However, I had more important things to think about, like running like heck for the submarine, so I didn't spend much time looking.
Friday, March 5, 2010
Freegans part 5
Lucy
I leaned down through the net and yelled, "Go home, Danielle! Go home!" Maybe it was sheer terror, maybe she was confused, but she did as I said. As I watched her run away, I was suddenly hit by a wave of vertigo. I've never been too good with heights, and this net was pretty high off the ground, though I couldn't see what it was attached too. Mostly that was because I now had my eyes squeezed shut, and was trying very hard not to puke.
I heard Cara say, "I think we can safely conclude this was a trap set by the consumerists."
"Brilliant deduction, Holmes," said Matt sarcastically, followed by an "Ow!" after she socked him. Then I suddenly heard a loud thrumming sound above us.
"What's that?" I asked. I opened my eyes, and saw. The net was swinging precariously through the air, and dangling by a rope from a big helicopter!
"How come we didn't hear that earlier?" Matt wanted to know.
"I presume it's because of the silent hovercraft hidden in the clouds that this helicopter was resting on," said Cara. Both of us looked at her.
"How do you know about that?" we asked at nearly the same time. She pointed up at the sky, and we saw the silent hovercraft following us. Instantly I felt kind of stupid. Then my feelings changed to ones of panic. We were prisoners! The consumerists had captured us, and were going to do who-knows-what! My chest began feeling tight.
The trip lasted for what seemed like hours, going past the city we knew, and during that time all we did was sit and think. I didn't understand how Cara and Matt were handling this so calmly. They sat, trying to make themselves comfortable on the mesh, and staring out at the landscape. As I watched, I suddenly noticed that Cara's hands were shaking, and looked kind of clammy. I glanced at Matt, and saw that his eyes held a slightly anxious look. I realized that they really WERE as afraid as I was, just better at controlling it. That made me feel kind of crummy, since I always wear my heart on my sleeve.
Anyway, we finally closed in on another city. "Which one is this?" I asked aloud.
"I think it's Washington D.C," said Cara. She's the history buff in the group, and knows that sort of thing. She pointed down at a tall, white building standing out on the ground. "That's the old Washington Monument. Dedicated to our first president." Looking down on it made me dizzy, so I looked away. It was a marvel that I had come this far without throwing up. Matt looked at me.
"Are you okay?" he asked. I nodded.
I leaned down through the net and yelled, "Go home, Danielle! Go home!" Maybe it was sheer terror, maybe she was confused, but she did as I said. As I watched her run away, I was suddenly hit by a wave of vertigo. I've never been too good with heights, and this net was pretty high off the ground, though I couldn't see what it was attached too. Mostly that was because I now had my eyes squeezed shut, and was trying very hard not to puke.
I heard Cara say, "I think we can safely conclude this was a trap set by the consumerists."
"Brilliant deduction, Holmes," said Matt sarcastically, followed by an "Ow!" after she socked him. Then I suddenly heard a loud thrumming sound above us.
"What's that?" I asked. I opened my eyes, and saw. The net was swinging precariously through the air, and dangling by a rope from a big helicopter!
"How come we didn't hear that earlier?" Matt wanted to know.
"I presume it's because of the silent hovercraft hidden in the clouds that this helicopter was resting on," said Cara. Both of us looked at her.
"How do you know about that?" we asked at nearly the same time. She pointed up at the sky, and we saw the silent hovercraft following us. Instantly I felt kind of stupid. Then my feelings changed to ones of panic. We were prisoners! The consumerists had captured us, and were going to do who-knows-what! My chest began feeling tight.
The trip lasted for what seemed like hours, going past the city we knew, and during that time all we did was sit and think. I didn't understand how Cara and Matt were handling this so calmly. They sat, trying to make themselves comfortable on the mesh, and staring out at the landscape. As I watched, I suddenly noticed that Cara's hands were shaking, and looked kind of clammy. I glanced at Matt, and saw that his eyes held a slightly anxious look. I realized that they really WERE as afraid as I was, just better at controlling it. That made me feel kind of crummy, since I always wear my heart on my sleeve.
Anyway, we finally closed in on another city. "Which one is this?" I asked aloud.
"I think it's Washington D.C," said Cara. She's the history buff in the group, and knows that sort of thing. She pointed down at a tall, white building standing out on the ground. "That's the old Washington Monument. Dedicated to our first president." Looking down on it made me dizzy, so I looked away. It was a marvel that I had come this far without throwing up. Matt looked at me.
"Are you okay?" he asked. I nodded.
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