[Reaver appears disinterested at the words being echoed from the shadows as he stares down at the large wet stain on the carpet.
“He doesn’t know shit. His brother has all the answers.”]
Monday 3-12-2012
Cassius stares bleakly at the muted television displaying images of a car chase in a movie he has never seen before. He is eating a bowl of cereal very carefully as he stares. His naked body is rather rigid as he sits on a wooden chair in the middle of a dark and near empty motel room. It is a little after four o’clock in afternoon but the closed blackout curtains make it seem as though it is late at night. It is an odd picture for anyone unaware of his condition.
Since the accident Cassius has destroyed numerous televisions, couches and countless pieces of clothing from static. He has come to find that when he comes in contact with electricity in even the most miniscule quantities, his body seems to amplify it and discharge it almost uncontrollably. The contact between clothing and the fabric of a couch often caught him off guard and created just enough of a static discharge to create an arc flash that would set everything within three feet of him on fire. It is to this effect that he is careful in every movement he makes, cautious of every surface he comes into contact with and has now become a hermit in hiding. Too many accidents has drawn too much attention to his condition and thus he has soared to the top of Reaver’s list of “must haves”.
A soft knock at the door breaks his concentration on the television. He stands and slowly moves across the room towards the door. The carpet throughout the room has been removed and the cold cement subfloor makes his toes tingle. He doesn’t make a sound as he moves.
Tuesday, February 23, 2010
Monday, February 22, 2010
A Series of Unfortunate Events Part: 52
[felt like a punctured lung, he uses the last of his strength to do the one thing he never thought to do before.]
“You won’t get this guinea pig... not this time...”
The sound of spilling water turned Reaver’s attention off of Render’s quivering lips as he notices his body beginning to liquefy, pouring out of the tattered remains of his clothes and rapidly soaking into the carpet. His limbs quickly pour away from the rest of his body and the transformation engulfs his torso leading to his head. Render’s eyes roll backwards into their sockets as Reaver steadies himself as the torso washes out from under his foot and that last held facial expression blends into the rest of the mess that spreads out onto the carpet.
“They always run till they die. Least he killed himself this time….”
“We cannot afford to continue to lose specimens like this Sergeant. There are quite the many senators backing this effort that would not be pleased about this. This one may have been less useful, but in the long run there cannot be any mistakes when the time comes to retrieve Dr. Smart. He knows the key to getting what we need to complete this project.”
Reaver appears disinterested at the words being echoed from the shadows as he stares down at the large wet stain on the carpet.
“He doesn’t know shit. His brother has all the answers.”
“You won’t get this guinea pig... not this time...”
The sound of spilling water turned Reaver’s attention off of Render’s quivering lips as he notices his body beginning to liquefy, pouring out of the tattered remains of his clothes and rapidly soaking into the carpet. His limbs quickly pour away from the rest of his body and the transformation engulfs his torso leading to his head. Render’s eyes roll backwards into their sockets as Reaver steadies himself as the torso washes out from under his foot and that last held facial expression blends into the rest of the mess that spreads out onto the carpet.
“They always run till they die. Least he killed himself this time….”
“We cannot afford to continue to lose specimens like this Sergeant. There are quite the many senators backing this effort that would not be pleased about this. This one may have been less useful, but in the long run there cannot be any mistakes when the time comes to retrieve Dr. Smart. He knows the key to getting what we need to complete this project.”
Reaver appears disinterested at the words being echoed from the shadows as he stares down at the large wet stain on the carpet.
“He doesn’t know shit. His brother has all the answers.”
Sunday, February 21, 2010
A Series of Unfortunate Events Part: 51
[We will exact this hiccup in God’s plan as a means to better many with what you would have otherwise allowed to go to waste.”]
Still stifled by the tears and panic, Render tries to rebuff Reavers seemingly misaligned opinion of him.
“I havn’t done anyth- YOU killed her!”
“No, you did. You and your selfishness, killed her and left bodies crumpled in the pavement outside. You are the killer! You tried to play God with this and you have murdered. Not ME!”
In his rage Reaver rears back enough to plant his foot in Render’s chest and knock him over, pinning him to the floor. The pressure of his foot quickly begins to flex Renders ribs almost to the point that they are about to start breaking. He wheezes to almost no avail to provide himself oxygen. Reaver at this point, has almost completely lost control and gradually applies more pressure till he can hear the first rib break and his heel momentarily dig deaper into Render’s chest. The pain is enough for Render exhale what little breath he had him as an almost blood curdling yell.
“Enough”
The other voice from the shadows emits in a tone barely audible above the deafening rage in Reaver’s head. Render had long since gone silent after the first break and lay there near breathless.
“I think he’s had enough. He is supposed to be our guinea pig and not a rag doll.”
In hearing the voice again Render’s eyes open wide. He knew this voice and he knew where this was going to go again. Noticing that his breathing was now being inhibited by what felt like a punctured lung, he uses the last of his strength to do the one thing he never thought to do before.
Still stifled by the tears and panic, Render tries to rebuff Reavers seemingly misaligned opinion of him.
“I havn’t done anyth- YOU killed her!”
“No, you did. You and your selfishness, killed her and left bodies crumpled in the pavement outside. You are the killer! You tried to play God with this and you have murdered. Not ME!”
In his rage Reaver rears back enough to plant his foot in Render’s chest and knock him over, pinning him to the floor. The pressure of his foot quickly begins to flex Renders ribs almost to the point that they are about to start breaking. He wheezes to almost no avail to provide himself oxygen. Reaver at this point, has almost completely lost control and gradually applies more pressure till he can hear the first rib break and his heel momentarily dig deaper into Render’s chest. The pain is enough for Render exhale what little breath he had him as an almost blood curdling yell.
“Enough”
The other voice from the shadows emits in a tone barely audible above the deafening rage in Reaver’s head. Render had long since gone silent after the first break and lay there near breathless.
“I think he’s had enough. He is supposed to be our guinea pig and not a rag doll.”
In hearing the voice again Render’s eyes open wide. He knew this voice and he knew where this was going to go again. Noticing that his breathing was now being inhibited by what felt like a punctured lung, he uses the last of his strength to do the one thing he never thought to do before.
Saturday, February 20, 2010
A Series of Unfortunate Events Part: 50
[No civilian gets away with harming a good soldier and no living creature harms an Elite Guard and survives. Period.]
Wednesday 1-18-2012
Render’s vision blurs with tears at the sound of Reaver’s voice. He knows now that they will not stop until he’s dead. Whatever they want from him it doesn’t sound like it will be taken without them taking his life in the process. He frames the question in his head but breaks down before it could be uttered in confidence.
“what do you want from me?!?”
His voice cracks and pitches as the words jerked tears from his eyes. Saliva dribbles from his lower lip as he followed the question with mumbled out sorrow filled nonsense.
“Oh Mr. Reyes, no need for tears. You are about to do this country a great service. You and your kind will provide the valuable knowledge to create mediums of better defenses for this country.”
Amidst his speech Reaver walks forward from the shadows. His face is slowly reddening in color and has become glazed with an angry glare that if it were anything but a line of sight, would pierce a hole in Render. He continues forward ranting with a subtle rage and as he comes within arm’s reach of Render, grabs his chin and lifts his sniveling head to face him.
“Rather than waiting for you to waste away such potential on the rancid rotting of the human condition you people with ‘powers’ always evoke in your effort to maximize your personal gain with giving yourself gifts using your gifts... We have intervened. We will exact this hiccup in God’s plan as a means to better many with what you would have otherwise allowed to go to waste.”
Wednesday 1-18-2012
Render’s vision blurs with tears at the sound of Reaver’s voice. He knows now that they will not stop until he’s dead. Whatever they want from him it doesn’t sound like it will be taken without them taking his life in the process. He frames the question in his head but breaks down before it could be uttered in confidence.
“what do you want from me?!?”
His voice cracks and pitches as the words jerked tears from his eyes. Saliva dribbles from his lower lip as he followed the question with mumbled out sorrow filled nonsense.
“Oh Mr. Reyes, no need for tears. You are about to do this country a great service. You and your kind will provide the valuable knowledge to create mediums of better defenses for this country.”
Amidst his speech Reaver walks forward from the shadows. His face is slowly reddening in color and has become glazed with an angry glare that if it were anything but a line of sight, would pierce a hole in Render. He continues forward ranting with a subtle rage and as he comes within arm’s reach of Render, grabs his chin and lifts his sniveling head to face him.
“Rather than waiting for you to waste away such potential on the rancid rotting of the human condition you people with ‘powers’ always evoke in your effort to maximize your personal gain with giving yourself gifts using your gifts... We have intervened. We will exact this hiccup in God’s plan as a means to better many with what you would have otherwise allowed to go to waste.”
Friday, February 19, 2010
A Series of Unfortunate Events Part: 49
[This is not good. He is in grave danger and is trapped in a drug cocktail induced prison.]
Jason figures the good thing is that with all his other senses out of the picture, he can concentrate on his thoughts with little distraction if he can just slow the rapid succession of things entering and exiting his head. The only sure thing is that he needs to be prepared for when someone makes a mistake and he can escape.
Monday 3-12-2012
Sgt. Reaver’s eyes are rapidly racing back and forth in his head as the landscape below slowly passes. He is transfixed on finding Daniel’s remains.
“Sir… Sir… Sgt Reaver Sir!”
The pilot struggles to gain his attention over the noise of the engines and through Reaver’s steady concentration.
“Sir! We’re running low on fuel. We have to turn back!”
Reaver’s concentration breaks for a moment and he snaps to the pilot’s attention.
“What?”
“We’re running low on fuel sir.”
“Run us down to the reserves. We’re not that far out.”
“Sir, we’ve gone a long ways and we have wounded men on board that need attention.”
Reaver turns his attention back to the ground while gesturing with his hand in a circular motion, signaling the pilot to turn the chopper around and head back to base. The pilot radios to field operations on the ground.
“Foxtrot Alpha, this is Stealth Hawk X-ray-three-one. Advise ground crews of possible low fuel emergency landing. Stand by medical teams to receive wounded soldiers in transit.”
“Copy that X-ray-three-one. We’ll have ground teams ready and waiting.”
Sgt. Reaver turns his attention back to the pilot to belt more orders at him.
Get back on the horn and get a gunship ready for a search and rescue deployment.”
“Yes sir”
The pilot communicates Reaver’s order as he continues to stare bleakly at the passing landscape. He is thoroughly displeased with the potential loss of one of his best soldiers. He assures himself that Dr. Sharp will not go long without having to see the ramifications of his actions today. No civilian gets away with harming a good soldier and no living creature harms an Elite Guard and survives. Period.
Jason figures the good thing is that with all his other senses out of the picture, he can concentrate on his thoughts with little distraction if he can just slow the rapid succession of things entering and exiting his head. The only sure thing is that he needs to be prepared for when someone makes a mistake and he can escape.
Monday 3-12-2012
Sgt. Reaver’s eyes are rapidly racing back and forth in his head as the landscape below slowly passes. He is transfixed on finding Daniel’s remains.
“Sir… Sir… Sgt Reaver Sir!”
The pilot struggles to gain his attention over the noise of the engines and through Reaver’s steady concentration.
“Sir! We’re running low on fuel. We have to turn back!”
Reaver’s concentration breaks for a moment and he snaps to the pilot’s attention.
“What?”
“We’re running low on fuel sir.”
“Run us down to the reserves. We’re not that far out.”
“Sir, we’ve gone a long ways and we have wounded men on board that need attention.”
Reaver turns his attention back to the ground while gesturing with his hand in a circular motion, signaling the pilot to turn the chopper around and head back to base. The pilot radios to field operations on the ground.
“Foxtrot Alpha, this is Stealth Hawk X-ray-three-one. Advise ground crews of possible low fuel emergency landing. Stand by medical teams to receive wounded soldiers in transit.”
“Copy that X-ray-three-one. We’ll have ground teams ready and waiting.”
Sgt. Reaver turns his attention back to the pilot to belt more orders at him.
Get back on the horn and get a gunship ready for a search and rescue deployment.”
“Yes sir”
The pilot communicates Reaver’s order as he continues to stare bleakly at the passing landscape. He is thoroughly displeased with the potential loss of one of his best soldiers. He assures himself that Dr. Sharp will not go long without having to see the ramifications of his actions today. No civilian gets away with harming a good soldier and no living creature harms an Elite Guard and survives. Period.
Thursday, February 18, 2010
A Series of Unfortunate Events Part: 48
[...but I am happy with your silence. The more you struggle the harder the stuff works to keep you under control.”]
With the lack of sight Jason turns to his ears to figure out what is happening. He can hear someone moving about the room shuffling papers and writing down notes. There is humming equipment in the room and there are faint sounds of other people being in the building just outside of a door. He figures he must still be in the hospital. The drugs must be so that he can’t make a commotion and the “voice” has a reason to keep him here. He must be a doctor of some kind. Why do they want him to be a guinea pig? What did the guy mean by “rendering”? These thoughts continue to plague him through the moments that the room remains silent. He tries to listen for more nuances of activity, but is given nothing more. In a few moments there was a bit of what sounded like whispering and then multiple sets of feet exit the room. Silence. As the last set footsteps made their way out the door. The darkness behind his eyelids became intensely darker suggesting that the lights had been turned off. As the door slowly closes under the power of a pneumatic door closer, Jason frantically tries to sort out the sounds that are pouring into the room. It’s it almost too much to decipher. Wherever he is, it is busy, and he might have heard the sound of low chatter on a two-way radio.
The racing thoughts tire him, and as his mind weakens towards sleep he tries to comfort himself with the thought of hopefully making it back into Monica’s arms. They must have told her he is in bad enough shape where she can’t see him. She would never let something like this happen to him under her watch. This is not good. He is in grave danger and is trapped in a drug cocktail induced prison.
With the lack of sight Jason turns to his ears to figure out what is happening. He can hear someone moving about the room shuffling papers and writing down notes. There is humming equipment in the room and there are faint sounds of other people being in the building just outside of a door. He figures he must still be in the hospital. The drugs must be so that he can’t make a commotion and the “voice” has a reason to keep him here. He must be a doctor of some kind. Why do they want him to be a guinea pig? What did the guy mean by “rendering”? These thoughts continue to plague him through the moments that the room remains silent. He tries to listen for more nuances of activity, but is given nothing more. In a few moments there was a bit of what sounded like whispering and then multiple sets of feet exit the room. Silence. As the last set footsteps made their way out the door. The darkness behind his eyelids became intensely darker suggesting that the lights had been turned off. As the door slowly closes under the power of a pneumatic door closer, Jason frantically tries to sort out the sounds that are pouring into the room. It’s it almost too much to decipher. Wherever he is, it is busy, and he might have heard the sound of low chatter on a two-way radio.
The racing thoughts tire him, and as his mind weakens towards sleep he tries to comfort himself with the thought of hopefully making it back into Monica’s arms. They must have told her he is in bad enough shape where she can’t see him. She would never let something like this happen to him under her watch. This is not good. He is in grave danger and is trapped in a drug cocktail induced prison.
Wednesday, February 17, 2010
A Series of Unfortunate Events Part: 47
[...flesh hitting pavement, grunts of struggle and jingle of loose change being lost concerted with a muffled bang to bring an almost rhythmic end to the fight.]
Thursday 10-9-2008
“Doctor, he’s waking”
A soft pleasant voice seems to echo in his head long after words were spoken. As Jason’s eyes, open everything is a bright blur that feels although it’s scorching the retinas of his eyes as a seemingly familiar male voice beings to speak.
“I wouldn’t open my eyes if I were you. Those drugs make
having sight a miserable thing. And don’t worry about trying to move Mr. Reyes, you’re pretty much paralyzed by them too. We don’t want you hopping up and rendering yourself into anything dangerous now do we? Plus you’re just a much better biopsy patient when you can’t feel the pain either. You’re uhm, such a good guinea pig this way”
Confined to the darkness behind his eyelids, Jason is unable to identify who this is or even be sure of where he is at the moment. Though nearly paralyzed, Jason could still feel the cold sinking feeling caused by the onset of immense fear in response to words he’s hearing. He tries to move his limbs but his mind is met with no response from his extremities. His face begins to quiver as he continues to struggle but not even his lips would move to allow him to express his fear and anger with the colorful expletives he often enjoys using.
“Its okay Mr. Reyes, I know you’d be showering me with a graceful uhm, pelting of profanity right now. I appreciate your valiant attempt but I am happy with your silence. The more you struggle the harder the stuff works to keep you under control.”
Thursday 10-9-2008
“Doctor, he’s waking”
A soft pleasant voice seems to echo in his head long after words were spoken. As Jason’s eyes, open everything is a bright blur that feels although it’s scorching the retinas of his eyes as a seemingly familiar male voice beings to speak.
“I wouldn’t open my eyes if I were you. Those drugs make
having sight a miserable thing. And don’t worry about trying to move Mr. Reyes, you’re pretty much paralyzed by them too. We don’t want you hopping up and rendering yourself into anything dangerous now do we? Plus you’re just a much better biopsy patient when you can’t feel the pain either. You’re uhm, such a good guinea pig this way”
Confined to the darkness behind his eyelids, Jason is unable to identify who this is or even be sure of where he is at the moment. Though nearly paralyzed, Jason could still feel the cold sinking feeling caused by the onset of immense fear in response to words he’s hearing. He tries to move his limbs but his mind is met with no response from his extremities. His face begins to quiver as he continues to struggle but not even his lips would move to allow him to express his fear and anger with the colorful expletives he often enjoys using.
“Its okay Mr. Reyes, I know you’d be showering me with a graceful uhm, pelting of profanity right now. I appreciate your valiant attempt but I am happy with your silence. The more you struggle the harder the stuff works to keep you under control.”
Tuesday, February 16, 2010
A Series of Unfortunate Events Part: 46
[The car continues to travel about half a block before turning into the lot of a corner market and crashing into another parked car. ]
The two fall to the pavement and the pistol scrapes across the ground to the left of them almost falling off the curb. The thug thrashes to push Nic off of him and retrieve the gun. Seeing what he intends to do Nic grabs a hold of the thug’s outward stretched arm and pins it to the pavement with his left hand and begins to administer a pounding to his face with his right hand. Nic only successfully landed two punches before he had a palm pressed into his face in an attempt to push him away. He is shortly knocked over as the thug leverages himself and attempts to get to his knees in an effort to work his way closer to the gun. Nic tries to maintain his balance but is unable to stop himself from falling backwards nearly tearing the collar off of the thugs shirt as he tries to hold onto anything to keep himself up. The thug seizes the opportunity to lunge for the gun.
Upon getting the pistol in hand he turns to fire upon Nic and is met with a shoulder in the stomach that lifts him off his feet for about 7 feet carrying him between two parked cars to be deposited on the hood of a passing patrol car. The two boys entangled in each other roll almost onto the roof of the patrol car before the officer slams on the brakes casting the still brawling mass onto the asphalt where the smack of flesh hitting pavement, grunts of struggle and jingle of loose change being lost concerted with a muffled bang to bring an almost rhythmic end to the fight.
The two fall to the pavement and the pistol scrapes across the ground to the left of them almost falling off the curb. The thug thrashes to push Nic off of him and retrieve the gun. Seeing what he intends to do Nic grabs a hold of the thug’s outward stretched arm and pins it to the pavement with his left hand and begins to administer a pounding to his face with his right hand. Nic only successfully landed two punches before he had a palm pressed into his face in an attempt to push him away. He is shortly knocked over as the thug leverages himself and attempts to get to his knees in an effort to work his way closer to the gun. Nic tries to maintain his balance but is unable to stop himself from falling backwards nearly tearing the collar off of the thugs shirt as he tries to hold onto anything to keep himself up. The thug seizes the opportunity to lunge for the gun.
Upon getting the pistol in hand he turns to fire upon Nic and is met with a shoulder in the stomach that lifts him off his feet for about 7 feet carrying him between two parked cars to be deposited on the hood of a passing patrol car. The two boys entangled in each other roll almost onto the roof of the patrol car before the officer slams on the brakes casting the still brawling mass onto the asphalt where the smack of flesh hitting pavement, grunts of struggle and jingle of loose change being lost concerted with a muffled bang to bring an almost rhythmic end to the fight.
Monday, February 15, 2010
A Series of Unfortunate Events Part: 45
[an impact that knocked him flat on his back in the middle of the sidewalk, crushing the contents of his backpack with the force of his body weight slamming down on them.]
Nic’s head instantly begins to ring out like a freshly struck bell due to the back of his head briefly tapping against the concrete just hard enough to provide the right bruising to swell into a small lump in the coming moments.
“What’s up now bitch!?”
The statement was quickly followed by the all too familiar sound of a racking slide chambering a round in a semi-automatic pistol. Nic’s vision is still obstructed by the tears that have managed to well in his eyes as a result of the impacts, but he knows exactly who is speaking to him. With spit showering in all directions the thug from the previous encounter displays his anger with another 9mm pistol in hand pointed at Nic while nearly uncontrollably shouting.
“What? You thought I forget dat shit you did to me nigga? I told you I was gonna cap yo bitch ass- Faggot-ass nigga!”
In his rage filled expression the thug accidentally squeezes the trigger and fires off a round that lodges itself in the pavement right next to Nic’s face. With both ears ringing with the death swoon of dying eardrum cells, Nic throws himself to his feet and forward right into the thug. The weight of Nic slamming into his chest causes the thug to fall backwards. Not before accidently firing another shot that strikes the driver of a passing vehicle. The car continues to travel about half a block before turning into the lot of a corner market and crashing into another parked car.
Nic’s head instantly begins to ring out like a freshly struck bell due to the back of his head briefly tapping against the concrete just hard enough to provide the right bruising to swell into a small lump in the coming moments.
“What’s up now bitch!?”
The statement was quickly followed by the all too familiar sound of a racking slide chambering a round in a semi-automatic pistol. Nic’s vision is still obstructed by the tears that have managed to well in his eyes as a result of the impacts, but he knows exactly who is speaking to him. With spit showering in all directions the thug from the previous encounter displays his anger with another 9mm pistol in hand pointed at Nic while nearly uncontrollably shouting.
“What? You thought I forget dat shit you did to me nigga? I told you I was gonna cap yo bitch ass- Faggot-ass nigga!”
In his rage filled expression the thug accidentally squeezes the trigger and fires off a round that lodges itself in the pavement right next to Nic’s face. With both ears ringing with the death swoon of dying eardrum cells, Nic throws himself to his feet and forward right into the thug. The weight of Nic slamming into his chest causes the thug to fall backwards. Not before accidently firing another shot that strikes the driver of a passing vehicle. The car continues to travel about half a block before turning into the lot of a corner market and crashing into another parked car.
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