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Post by Mr. Penguin on Nov 29, 2006 15:45:38 GMT -5
Okay, so this is like a series thingy that I'm writing. It's like about me and my freinds, except we have like superpowers and stuff, so yeah. The first story is pretty much just to like introduce the characters and stuff, so yeah. But the second one actually has more of a plot to it. Sorta. Anyways... Enjoy. EDIT: Things have changed, and now they're all chapters instead of individual stories.
Chapter One: Another Boring Day At School
7:00 AM, Monday Fallbrook, CA
Alec sat in his bed, silently staring at the wall. He had waken up twenty minutes earlier, noted the time, and had no idea what to do. Normally, he wouldn't be waking up for another four hours at least. Suprised at this new found time, he was relatively confused, and was unable to cope with this idea. He reacted in the only way he figured would work; he stared at the wall. He considered several times getting out his guitar and practicing, but refrained due to the fact that it might annoy other certain people in the house. Also severl times he considered starting paying the XBox, but refrained due to the fact that he wasn't allowed to at the time (and for god knows why. He decided that his parents were insane.) and if he got caught, the rapture might come a little early. So he sat. And sat. And sat. And sat. And sat. And sat. He checked his watch... ...and realized he had lost it a few months earlier. "d**n," He muttered. He picked up his palm pilot, turned it on, and saw that five minutes had passed. "d**n," He said again, sighing. He contemplated turning on the TV. He hardly ever watched it, but nevertheless was able to determine that the best shows were not on at 7:05 in the morning. Sighing again, he got finally got up and walked outside. He looked up into the clear morning sky. A thought crossed his mind breifly. Then it crossed his mind again. Finally it sat still and he grinned. He knew what to do. He just wasn't sure whether anyone else would be amused by it. He looked back up at the sky, and jumped.
***
7:40 AM
Patrick was asleep in his bed, dreams as random and insane as any acid trip were in his mind. His facial expression, however, was only that of tiredness. If one were to think about it, one would realize that dreams are probably the reason a lot of people don't sleep well. I mean, if your mind is making up all this crap, then it's not resting, like it should be. If Patrick knew this, it did not show. He didn't know, so it didn't matter, anyway. He shifted in his sleep, which was probably a sign that he was close to waking up. Or far from it. He would have to get up soon anyway. School is a pregnant dog like that. And being a freshman in high school, Patrick knew this well. The person hovering above his house knew this well also. Luckily for him, though, Alec was in college. His first class didn't start until 9:30. Grinning, he touched a ring he always word on his right hand, on the ring finger. The ring transformed into a large, black dai-katana that was etched with red runes all along the blade. He admired the blade as he usually did. It looked particularly wicked in the early morning light. He decided he might make a point of waking up early from now on. He lifted his left hand and swept it down in front of his face. A mask that looked akin to the ones you find on the Slipknot guys appeared on his face. It was cold and metalliv looking but at the same time was detailed enough to actually be the face of something. It clung to his face in such a way as to reflect his facial expressions. He grinned, and the mettalic mask grinned as well. He swooped down silently and came in through Patrick's open window. "About time I show our singer exactly what you down with your voice," he muttered quietly. Patrick shifted again. Alec held his breath, but Patrick didn't shift again. Alec hovered as close to him as possible, leaned down, and screamed in Patrick's ear as loud as he could. The effect was instant and gratifying. Patrick screamed himself and leapt about three feet into the air, which was really rather impressive. Alec doubted he could leap that high while laying on his back. Then again, Alec could fly, so he could probably do better, but still it was impressive. When Patrick landed back on his bed, he instantly rolled off, thudded on the floor, stood up, and said "What the f**k are you doing?! I was f**king sleeping!" Alec laughed loudly. "I'm just having fun, dude! Chill out!" Patrick frowned. "Why the hell do you have your sword out? And your mask on?" Alec looked at it and raised his eyebrows. "Umm... I'm not quite sure..." He transformed the sword back into a ring, touched the mask, causing it to dissappear, and then looked at Patrick, and said tauntinly, "So, Patchies, you ready for school today?" "f**k you, dude," He said tiredly, "Let me go back to sleep." "Why?" Alec said. "You're already awake." He paused for a moment, and then added, "When does school start for you?" "7:45." He muttered, rubbing his eyes. Alec laughed again. "Looks like you might be late. Wanna fly, Patchies?" He shrugged. "Sure."
***
7:44 AM
Ed stood outside his math class, looking tired. He looked around, and noted that everyone else in the immediate vicinity looked tired, as well. 'Well,' he mused, 'It is morning.' He yawned widely. If he hair long, then it would be blowingly slightly in the wind. But it wasn't. It was short. And black. Ed liked it that way. It's easy to take care of. And stuff like that. For no reason, he happened to look up at the sky at that moment. He wasn't sure why he did. He wasn't sure why he did most things, but he especially wasn't sure why he did this. But he did. And he sighed at what he saw. Alec and Patrick were flying side by side through the air, as if they were in Dragon Ball Z or something. But of course they weren't. They could fly, though. Ed could, too. He just didn't feel like it most of the time. Most people could, but not everyone. Ed had seen them fly many times before, sometimes along with Garrett, too. They didn't always want to bring Garrett, though, He had the tendency of being rather annoying. Especially since he could be really difficult to understand a lot of the time. But now it was just Alec and Patrick. Penguin and Patchies. Two of the Potato Ninjas. Ed sighed. 'They can really act like losers, sometimes,' he thought. The bell rang, and he turned and walked to class.
***
8:07 AM
Garrett sat in Math class, not listening at all to what the teacher was saying. He had an idea it had to do with numbers, but he wasn't completely sure. He stared at the blank paper on his desk, wondering whether he should draw something. 'But what I draw?' he wondered. He grabbed his pencil, looked at his paper, and then had a better idea. He looked at the pencil and it made a small popping noise as it turned into a potatoe. Garrett grinned happily. The others may have their flashy powers, but Garrett was perfectly happy with his. "Potatoes." He said quietly. He held the potatoe in his hand, again unsure what to do. 'Maybe I can carve a face in it,' he thought. He frowned as he realized he had nothing to carve it with. Then he grinned. 'I'll just turn it back into a pencil, and then I'll have something to carve with!' He looked at the potatoe and tried to turn it back into a pencil. It didn't work. He frowned and tried harder. "It's not working..." He said quietly. And indeed, it wasn't working. As many times as he did it, he still didn't want to believe that he could only turn things into potatoes, and not back into what they were before. 'Someday I'll be able to change them back.' he thought tiredly. His thoughts then drifted back to his room, and the large pile of potatoes underneath it. 'IF only I can remember what they all were to begin with...' He sighed. School was so boring. It wasn't even worth listening to. At least that's what he figured. He couldn't remember actually listening in class for a while. When had he paid attention in class last? He had no idea. He looked at his blank paper again. He got an idea, and then turned that into a potatoe. It made a slightly louder popping noise, and the person sitting next to him looked over, saw a large flat potatoe on Garrett's desk, as well as one in his hand. The person shook his head and went back to whatever he was doing before. Garrett didn't notice any of that. He was now attempting to write with the potatoe in his hand on the potatoe on the desk. It wasn't working. He sighed, put his head down, and fell asleep.
***
8:13 AM
Zack was sitting in the back of the same class as Garrett. Unlike Garrett, he wasn't changing things into potatoes. Instead, he was watching Garrett change things into potatoes. It was rather amusing to him. Especially when Garrett tried to change them back. The expression on his face was priceless. It was especially great since he had been doing the same thing in class for a few weeks, now. He saw Garrett put his head down and fall asleep almost instantly. He grinned, and cupped one of his hands over his desk. Light started gleaming from under it. He slowly uncovered it, and a small dense packet of light was sitting there. He quickly lifted it in his hand, aimed, and chucked it straight at Garrett's head. It went straight inside, and a second later, came back. On it's return trip, it was large and bulky, and slightly brownish colored. Zack caught it in his hand, and it melted into his skin. It gleamed for a moment, and then dissappeared. He then looked at one of the markers on the whiteboard at the front of the class. It made a small popping noise that was almost completely inaudible, and turned into a potatoe. 'God, I love stealing people's powers,' he thought happily. He then began turning random things into potatoes all over the room. A paper on the teacher's desk, the pencil in someone's hand, a book on the shelf, a whiteboard eraser. He giggled like a small child, and then launched the ball of light back at Garrett. It went into his head, and returned again, small and golden. He had given Garrett's power back. He chuckled again as the bell rang and he quickly left the room.
***
11:58 AM
Aaron was on the edge of his seat, staring at the clock intensly. 'Come on,' he was thinking, 'just two more minutes until lunch... come on...' Around him, most of the people were doing the same. At junior high school, that's all most kids think about. Aaron, however, had plans. 'Why sit around in school?' He mused. 'Why not take off and find the Potato Ninjas?' Aaron was not a PN himself, but rather a sort of groupie. He followed them around as best he could, and did what he could to help. Of course, he wasn't the only one. One other kid, Connor, tried to follow them around, too. Unfortunately for him, everyone but Connor could fly, so avoiding him was a lot simpler. Aaron could fly, too, but not as well as the PNs. After all, they had had more practice than Aaron. The PNs were all in high school. Except for Alec, that is, who is in college. All the PNs had nicknames, and Aaron did as well. Aaron's was "Spuddy." His brother had been a Spuddy, too, but then decided there were better things to waste his time with. The bell rang, and Aaron was the first out the door. Without hesitation, he jumped into the air as soon as he was outside, and took off for the high school.
***
12:03
Zack, Garrett, Ed, Patrick, and Aaron all arrived at their spot at the same time. Their spot was on top of the science building. The first time they had congregated, it had caused quite a stir on campus, and they had to take off before everyone not on top of the science building began throwing rocks at them. In time, however, everyone got used to it, and the people below hardly gave them a second glance anymore. The school faculty wasn't happy about this whole thing, of course, but they were powerless to do anything about it. At first it had just been Zack, Garrett, Patrick, and Ed showing up there, but then Alec started coming, and so did Aaron. And speaking of Alec, he landed right in the middle of the group about a minute after the others showed up. "So," he said to no-one in particular, "What's new?" "Absolutely nothing." Zack replied. Everyone nodded in agreement. Except for Garrett. "I got detention!" He declared. "For turning too many things into potatoes in class!" Zack was barely able to keep from bursting out laughing. Alec sat there, amused. He could read minds, and what he saw was amusing. Garrett was confused about the detention, and did not remember turning that many things to potatoes. He remembered his pencil and his paper, but that what it. Zack was thinking how perfectly that had gone, and how stealthy he was when doing such things. Ed was picturing Zack sitting in the back of a classroom, stealing Garrett's power, and turning a bunch of things into potatoes before Garrett noticed. 'Not bad,' Alec thought, 'That's exactly what happened.' Patrick was checking out a chick down below them and was not listening to the others at all. It's pretty obvious what he was thinking. Aaron was thinking about telling a tree to go crashing through the fence, but wondered if anyone would know that it was him. 'Of course we would know it's you,' Alec thought, 'You're the only one that can control plants like that...' Alec sighed and looked around. It had been cold earlier in the day, but it was starting to heat up again. Rapidly. He wondered in the back of his mind why they hang out on a rooftop, and not under shade like any normal person. 'Well that's obvious,' he mused, 'We aren't normal people. At least not totally.' Thinking about their irregularities gave him an idea. Everyone else had lapsed into a conversation about something (Alec wasn't sure what), and Alec slowly edged away. He got about three feet outside the group, and then dissapeared. "God, I love shadow magic," he said quietly. He then snuck up behind Aaron, raised a hand, and proceeded to make a waterfall above his head. Aaron jumped when it began splashing over him and looked around. He saw no-one. He frowned. 'Probably just Alec,' her thought. Alec snuck around behind Patrick, who had returned to checking out girls. He gently placed his hands an inch from behing Patrick, and then pushed as hard as he could. Patrick tumbled over the side with a yelp of suprise, managed to get control of his falling, and zoomed back up to the roof, turning red with anger. "Who did that d**nit?!" He shouted. Everyone froze and looked at him. Alec silently appeared right in front of Patrick. "Sorry Patchies. Couldn't resist." Alec grinned, and then shot a stream of water into Patrick's face, and, laughing, flew up into the air. "Stupid bastard," Patrick muttered under his breath as he rose to meet Alec. "So you wanna play? Huh? Then eat this!" Patrick created a powerful ball of fire and flung it at Alec. Alec's eyes went wide, and he dodged it at the last moment, and then shot a spray of water into the next ball of fire Patrick was about to throw. It went out in a puff of smoke. Patrick created another ball of fire, this one with a dense core of death energy, and threw that at Alec. Alec turned invisible, dodged the attack, and then flew right up to Patrick, slapped him in the face, and then flew straight up above him. "Stupid bastard has to turn invisible," Patrick mumbled as he looked everywhere for Alec. High above him, Alec created a ball of water and dropped it. It feel down and hit Patrick directly on his head, temporarily stunning him. Patrick recovered quickly and shot a ray of fire up to where he thought Alec was. He missed by several feet. Alec now flew down to Patrick's level and began going in circles around him, shooting small streams of water at him. Angry, Patrick created a fire shield around himself, and then created a shockwave from it. The shockwave hit Alec and gave him a nice burn all across his body. He turned visible again, and said, "Okay, okay. No more." They both landed on the roof again, Patrick still glaring at Alec, who was grinning, in spite of the fact he just pretty much lost. "Well," he said, "That was fun." Patrick mumbled something incoherent under his breath. Alec didn't have to ask him what he said. He already knew.
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Post by Mr. Penguin on Nov 29, 2006 15:46:06 GMT -5
And now story chapter two....
Chapter Two: Breaking The Habit
3:00 PM, Wednesday Fallbrook, CA
Ed walked slowly out of class, his mind occupied by thoughts that wouldn't go away. He had no idea what to do about it, or whether he needed to even do anything. Besides, thoughts were just thoughts, right? He wasn't so sure about it. He wondered whether staying up all night watching old episodes of Robot Chicken and Family Guy had anything to do with it. Maybe not Family Guy so much, but maybe Robot Chicken... He sighed and continued walking. 'But perhaps,' he thought, 'the problem really is...' his thoughts were interupted when Patrick jumped out of a nearby bush screaming like a lunatic. His idea was to scare Ed, but instead only managed to acheive a blank stare from his freind. Patrick laughed. "What are you looking all emo about?" He asked. Ed sighed, "It's nothing." Patrick laughed again. "Yeah right. What happened? You finally realize you are completely retarded?" Ed shook his head. "Do you ever think of anything original, Patchies?" Patrick looked confused, and then angry. "Shut up, f*g." Before Ed could retort, Alec happened to land right next to them at that moment. "You ladies having a nice little chat here?" He said tauntingly as Ed sighed yet again. Patrick turned to him and said, "I think Ed has gone a little emo here." Alec laughed. "What else is new?" He looked at Ed. "What is it? Have you been watching too much Robot Chicken again?" Ed looked at him incredulously. "You watch it too, you idiot." Alec smirked. "So, what's your point? It's a funny show." Instead of replying Ed just shook his head and started to walk away. "Woah there, Eddy boy," Patrick said, "you ain't leaving until you tell us what's got you so emo." Ed stopped. "Okay, fine, I'll tell you guys." He sighed. He wasn't sure exactly what he would say, but he thought he knew what the problem was. "You see, I've got this bad habit." Alec and Patrick both stared blankly for a few seconds, until Alec said, "And...?" "Oh, yeah. You see, I've got this bad habit of..." Before he could continue, Garrett suddenly ran in front of him, arms raised high over his head, shouting something about potatoes. Eveyone in the near vicinity stopped what they were doing and watched the running kid, confusion spread across their faces. Alec watched him with amusement on his face. Not only was Garrett's powers to turn things into potatoes, but he was also incredibly good at confusing people. At first no one thought it should be considered a power, since nothing supernatural seemd to be involved. After a while, they started to wonder whether it really was a power, or just his nature. He was d**n good at, but they still weren't sure what to consider it. Alec didn't consider it to be a power, but rather just an amusing gift. His timing for it was questionable, but it was always amusing to watch. "So Garrett," Alec said to Garrett after he finally calmed down, "what has you so excited?" Garrett grinned, looked at him, and said, "Potatoe!" And then, giggling like a small child, jumped into the air and flew off. Everyone stared at the spot where he had been for a short time, and then suddenly returned to whatever they were doing before, like nothing had just happened. Seeing Garrett fly off made Alec feel like doing the same thing. Unfortunately, Patrick turned to him and said, "Okay dude, we need to help Ed." Alec shrugged. "Okay," he said, "how?" In reply, Patrick turned to Ed and slapped him. Hard. "Ow! You stupid bastard!" Ed cried as he kicked Patrick in the balls. Patrick fell over on the ground, looking rather distressed. Alec looked on indifferently. He had seen this routine many times before, and had just learned that it goes quicker if you try not too laugh too much. He quickly became lost in other thoughts, and drifted away into a sort of sleep-standing thing. At least, until Patrick shook him hard enough to wake him up. "Okay dude," Patrick was saying, "What we need to do to fix Ed is to give him this potion thing." He held up a vial that had a murky blue liquid in it. It didn't look particularly tasteful, but hey, medicinges ain't supposed to be. "But what is Ed's..." Alec began. "So you up for this, Ed?" Patrick said, cutting Alec off mid-sentence. Alec was going to ask what Ed's problem was, as Patrick seemed to know now. 'No matter,' Alec thought, 'I'll ask later.' Ed nodded to Patrick's question and took the vial from Patrick's hand. He looked at it for a moment, and then drank the whole thing in one gulp. From his facial expression, it was quite apparent that it most definitely did not taste good. "I think I'm gonna puke..." Ed managed to say. "No! That's my only potion!" Patrick shouted at Ed. "I don't have any more!" Alec looked at Patrick. "What the f**k are you doing with potions anyway?" He asked. Patrick laughed. "This is a f**king story dude! We can fly! We have superpowers! Of COURSE we have potions!" "Umm... Patrick?" Alec said. "Yeah, what?" Patrick replied. "What makes you think we're in a story?" "Because we are." "No we aren't." "Yes we are." "No. We aren't." "Yes. We are." "Patrick, look. This is real life." "No it isn't." "It isn't?" "Nope. We're all a part of a story that you are writing." Alec looked suprised. "I'm writing this?" "Yep." Patrick replied happily. "Excpet you're in a different world than this. But it is pretty similar." Alec frowned. "Another world?" "Yeah. Kinda like a different dimension or something." "A different dimension?" "Umm... sorta." "Sorta?" "Yeah. Sorta." "Okay, then where am I in this 'other world?'" "At the moment, you are sitting in a practice room at OCC. You are waiting for 12:30 to roll around so you can go off to Computer class." "... right..." Convinced that Patrick had finally gone insane, Alec then turned to Ed. "So? You feel better?" One look at Ed's face would reveal that no, he was not better. He was worse. Or something to that effect. He was looking around spastically, his eyes both moving independently. He wore a large sloppy grin and was jumping up and down very quickly. His breathing was loud, and for some reason in sync with his maniacal hopping. He would have looked very funny, if he were faking it. But Alec could tell he wasn't. Even Garrett stopped and looked at Ed, and luckily, he was the only one. All the other "background people," as Alec thought of them, had dissapeared. "Oh god," Alec muttered under his breath, "Now Ed's gone insane, too." Over the next five minutes, Alec, Garrett, and Patrick (who had stopped talking about 'other worlds,' thank god) stood and watched Ed continue his weird little motions. Ed's head started to twitch slightly, too, and he began blinking rapidly intermittently. Worried, Alec moved towards him and said, "Ed..." He stopped. Ed had jerked his head and stared directly at Alec. All movement ceased and he stood perfectly still, looking something like a very realistic statue. "Ed..." Alec began again, but this time was cut off as Ed suddenly shreiked like a small cornered animal and began running away from them. "d**nit," Alec grumbled as he began chasing after the runaway kid. He didn't look over his shoulder, but he knew nonetheless that Patrick and Garrett were following him. Ed continued to run until Alec caught up to him and managed to tackle him to the ground. Ed managed to squirm his way out of Alec's grasp. He then proceeded to jump up, slap Alec across the face whil making noises that were somewhat similar to a demented squirell, and then jumped into the air and flew off. In a matter of seconds, he could no longer be seen. Garrett and Patrick caught up to Alec and followed his gaze into the sky. "Got away, did he?" Patrick asked solemnly. "Yep." Alec replied glumly. "What should we do?" "I dunno." Patrick sighed. "Just go home I guess. Ed'll probably show up in a day or two." "Yeah," Alec agreed, "He probably will." He began hovering a foot off the ground. "See you guys later, then." "Bye." Patrick and Garrett said. Alec dissapeared in cloud of shadow magic, blasting off into the air, headed north. Headed home.
***
Aaron sat at his desk in his house, laughing. He had managed to sell that stupid potion to Patrick for $20! What a success! He had followed the books instructions and made it accordingly, and it was supposed to cure most ailments. He had no idea how much it was worth, and of course, he had no idea how much money he had spent making it, but nevertheless he was sure it was much less than $20. Especially since he still had a very large jar of it on his desk. 'Nothing goes better with success than drawing pictures of random things!' He thought happily. He grabbed a pencil and began drawing. It slipped out of his hand, flew through the air, and landed in the jar of murky blue potion. Aaron watched it almost instantly disentegrate. He shrugged, grabbed another pencil, and that one also slipped out of his hand and into the potion. He repeated this several times until he ran out of pencils and pens. "How am I supposed to draw now?" He wondered aloud. He looked around, and saw that the last thing left was a black crayon sitting on his desk. Sighing, he picked it up and began to draw one last time. The crayon, like every other writing utensil, jumped out of his hand. But unlike the others, this one didn't disintegrate. It exploded. Aaron sat in his desk, looking at the blackened scorch mark where the jar used to sit. It had a peculiar smell about it that was something like sulfer, except not. He frowned. "Perhaps..." he began to think aloud, and then shook his head. "Naw." He said muttered. "No way THAT could happen." He stood up and walked out of his room.
***
A week later...
Patrick walked slowly out of class, his mind occupied by thoughts that wouldn't go away. He had no idea what to do about it, or whether he needed to even do anything. Besides, thoughts were just thoughts, right? He wasn't so sure about it. He wondered whether staying up all night watching old episodes of Robot Chicken and Family Guy had anything to do with it. Maybe not Family Guy so much, but maybe Robot Chicken... He shook the thoughts away. As much as he hated to admit it, he was worried about Ed. Ed wasn't the type of person he liked being worried about, but it seemed he had no choice. It had been exactly a week since the incident with Ed that he had brought on. If he hadn't given him the potion, then maybe none of it would have happened. He wondered what had caused the starnge reaction. Aaron had told him it was a completely legit potion, and it would cure most anything. And plus it had cost him a couple more dollars than he was happy about... And for what? All it did was f**k up Ed and make him disappear to god knows where. 'Maybe Alec will show up today,' he mused, 'I haven't seen him since the Ed incident.' Exactly on cue, Alec landed softly on his feet right in front of Patrick. Unfortunately for him, Patrick was walking with his head down, and too engrossed in his thoughts to notice. As a result, he walked straight into Alec, and fell over backward. He jumped up quickly, already starting to feel extremely stupid and embaressed, but when he saw that it was Alec, his embaressment turned into hope. "You have any news about Ed?" He questioned hopefully. Alec shook his head. "Nope." He said. "I don't." Patrick's hopes fell. The small ray of light in his heart suddenly went out. 'Why am I so upset about this?' He wondered, frustrated. Alec smiled sadly. "You are so upset because you are guilty about Ed. You think that since you gave him the potion, it's all your fault." Patrick groaned. "Dude, do you always have to read my thoughts?" Alec shrugged. "Sorry. Can't help it. It's just a part of me." "A nosy part of you..." Patrick mumbled. "What was that?" Alec asked. Of course he knew what Patrick said. It was written all over his face and thoughts. He was just amusing Patrick. "Nothing." Patrick sighed. He paused, and then added, "You think we will ever see Ed again?" Alec smiled. "Of course we will. It's just a matter of time." There was a pause, and Garrett and Zack showed up at that moment. "Garrett told me what happened last week," Zack said, "And I'm willing to help if I can." "Good," Alec said, turning to him. "'Cause I think we'll need all the help we can get." Alec was now looking over Zack's shoulder. Everyone turned to follow his gaze. There were several black dots in the sky, all of them rapidly growing larger. Pretty soon, it was quite apparent what they were; people. And not just any people, either. Each one of them was dressed in battle armor. Big bulky suits of iron and steel that would protect against d**n near anything. All of them, that is, except for one. Ed was in the middle of the group, and instead of wearing armor, he had only his big insane grin on his face, and his large claymore in his hands. The group landed in front of the gathered Potato Ninjas and Ed stepped forward. "So," he said in a voice that was very much not his own, "You think you can just give me a potion and fix what's wrong with me? Eh? EH?!" His face was now contorting, growing more and more wicked, and less and less like himself. 'This isn't good,' Alec thought unhappily, 'this isn't good at all. He apparently thinks we were trying to poison him or something...' "You think you are going to poison me? Is that it?" Ed's voice was rising and rising, like a frustrated chipmunk. "You think can just kill me? Eh? EH?!" 'Yep,' Alec thought, 'he's delusional.' "Well now I'm going to get my revenge!" Ed's voice had almost acheived a shaky soprano. "Guys! Attack!!" The armored coneys rushed at the potato ninjas, weapons raised. They each were armed similarly: a broadsword in one hand, and a war hammer in the other. 'd**nit,' Alec thought as he summoned his dai-katana and his armor. 'I was hoping for a peaceful conclusion.' He raised his weapon high over his head, and swung. One armored enemy dropped to his knees, blood spraying in a constant stream from his neck, all over the people gathered. As his face was splashed with blood, Alec made an important discovery; blood is hot. He had no time to ponder this newfound knowlege, as he was getting bum-rushed by the remaining armored clowns. To Alec's left, Patrick drew his Daggertail, and whipped one in the face, jerking back his hand at the last moment. The helmet of the unfortunate soldier was ripped off his head, and thrown several feet backwards. The facial expression was priceless. It went from overconfident to suprised to scared to angry to scared again in under a second. The next second the facial expressions ceased, as Patrick whipped his weapon again, this time taking off most of the soldier's face. Blood sprayed all over the pavement as he slumped to the ground. Garrett, however, was having a bit of trouble. He got his club out, no problem, but he was quickly realizing that it wasn't very effective against his armored foes. One of them knocked Garrett off his feet and into a nearby tree with one swing of his hammer. Garrett slumped down, a thin stream of blood leaking out of a corner of his mouth. The soldier who knocked Garrett off his feet had only a moment or two to celebrate his small victory. The next moment, his head was laying in the dirt several feet away from his body. Zack continued his decapitating swing and managed to clip Ed with the tip of his sword. A thin gash bled from Ed's side to his other side. Ed looked suprised for a moment, and then swung his claymore back at Zack. Zack brought his own sword up and blocked it with a loud clang. Ed gritted his teeth and pulled his sword back to swing again. To his right, Alec was engaged in battle with the last of the armored fools. He swung rapidly at his opponent, only to be blocked again and again by the soldier's weapons. Alec swung high, and was blocked by the soldier's hammer, while the sword in his other hand swings at Alec's midsection. Alec jumped back and avoided being hit. He held the sword in one hand, and raised the other toward his opponent. A high-pressure blast of water streaked from his hand and knocked his opponent of his feet. The soldier hit the ground hard, but sprang up again, hardly missing a beat. He swung his broadsword in a wide arc, and a wave of fire burst fron it abd blasted toward Alec. Alec raised his hand again, and shot his own blast of water toward the soldier. Their attacks met in midair and exploded in a ball of light. Both combatants were knocked backward. Alec managed to get back on his feet first, and threw his sword at the soldier. The soldier jumped up, only to be knocked back over, a sword sticking out of his chest. Alec smirked, and put his hand forward. The sword jumped back into his hand, satined with blood. He turned and watched Zack fighting with Ed. Ed's launched himslef forward, swinging his sword upward. Zack jumped into the air, avoiding Ed's attack, and then dropped with his sword straight down at Ed's head. Ed looked up with fear in his eyes. He raised his claymore, and managed to block the attack. They remained in swordlock for a moment, eyes blazing at each other. The moment broke, and they seperated in a burst of fire and light. Zack took a step back, and suddenly lit his sword up with flames. He waved it tauntingly in front of Ed. "Come and get it, Eddy boy." He chided. Ed gritted his teeth, and charged forward again. His sword was met by Zack's and sparks flew in a flurry of steel. A series of rapid attacks and blocks followed, almost so fast as to be imperceptible. The flurry was ended as Ed blasted a burst of light from his fist into Zack's chest. Zack was flung backwards in the dust, the breath removed from his lungs. He tried to gasp in breath, but only got a mouthful of dust. He coughed several times and struggled his feet. Ed was standing there, his eyes blazing. "Come and get it, Zacky boy." He taunted. Zack suddenly noticed Alec and Patrick standing to the side, watching patiently. Zack mouthed out a word at them, and Patrick nodded. With lightning speed, he spun towards Ed, and launched a ball of fire and death at Ed. Unaware of what was going on, Ed was hit with the full force of the spell and was knocked into a wall, unconcious. Alec seized the chance and sprang into action. He rushed at Ed and slapped him across the face as hard as he could. Ed's eyes flew open, and a mixture of saliva and blood flew from his mouth. He stayed like that for a moment, his eyes open wide, and mouth in a small "o". He then slowly turned and looked at Alec, who was standing over him, dai-katana held in one hand, a ball of water in the other, and covered head to toe in battle armor. Ed raised an eyebrow and said, "What the f**k are you doing, man?" His words ringed in the silence, and he seemed to nitice for the first time the bloody and occasionally headless corpses littered on the ground. His mouth dropped open and he looked up at Alec, a question already forming on his lips. "Yes," Alec said before Ed even said a single word, "This is your fault." Ed looked confused. "You went insane." Alec explained, his armor slowly disappearing into his skin, and his dai-katan transforming back into a ring. "Patrick gave you a potion to make you feel better, and you went all insane and flew away. You returned a week later and attacked us. And this," he waved his arm at the carnage behind him, "is the result." Ed nodded, accepting all this. He had a vauge recollection of what had happened, but it was just that; vauge. He looked over at Patrick, his armor and weapon also gone. "Why did you give me a potion that would make me insane?" He called. Patrick walked up slowly. "I didn't know it would make you insane." He said. "Aaron said it was suppoed to make you better." A thought suddenly occured to Alec. "Hey Ed," He said, turning to him, "what was your problem, anyway?" Ed looked confused for a moment, and then laughed. "Oh, that. Yeah, I was addicted to eating crayons. But I think after today, I'm over that." He laughed again. Alec was confused. Garrett remained leaning against the tree. The flow of blood had stopped, and the front of his shirt had a long stream down it. Under his shirt, one hell of a bruise was forming. It would be there for at least a month. He was lucky that his shull was not broken. Only the tree was broken. Or, at least, somewhat. As the others walked away, nobody seemed to notice Garrett still slumped there. That was okay. They hardly noticed him anyway.
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hopeless
Lark Still in the Egg
don't let the butterflies blind you
Posts: 58
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Post by hopeless on Dec 4, 2006 22:30:23 GMT -5
these are great, i've been so bored and no one is on when i am so i can't even make conversation, but your stories served to be thoroughly entertaining. im looking forward to the third story.^_^
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Post by Mr. Penguin on Dec 5, 2006 12:08:23 GMT -5
w00t! I win! Thanks! And yeah, I will have the third story soon. I have the fourth story, which is the one in which the bad guy becomes a bad guy and yeah. Maybe I should make that one number three instead of number four? Hmm...
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hopeless
Lark Still in the Egg
don't let the butterflies blind you
Posts: 58
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Post by hopeless on Dec 5, 2006 19:29:29 GMT -5
so did you just jump straight to the fourth story or does the third not finished and you asperation for the fourth is the whole bad guy becoming a bad guy thingy?.... im so confused. sigh-_-
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Post by Mr. Penguin on Dec 6, 2006 15:48:33 GMT -5
Well, I had the idea for the third, so I wrote that down, and then I had the idea for the fourth, and somehow ended up writing that first. But I'm working on the third right now, so it'll probably be done by saturday. Maybe sooner. But yeah, I'll wait til I finish the third before posting the fourth.
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hopeless
Lark Still in the Egg
don't let the butterflies blind you
Posts: 58
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Post by hopeless on Dec 6, 2006 23:41:50 GMT -5
oh ok thought it was somthing like that you just got a little ahead of yourself^_^
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Post by Mr. Penguin on Dec 7, 2006 11:45:07 GMT -5
lol. But in any case, here is story chapter number three!
Chapter Three: Affliction
4:23 AM Saturday Fallbrook, CA
Alec sat in bed, pondering a new problem he had come across. He had been watching the news a lot of late, and now realized a major threat. There was a sort of disease that was spreading through the town, killing or crippling many people. Fallbrook was not a big town, so Alec figured it wouldn't take long for everyone to keel over in the streets and die, effectively creating a ghost town out of the place. What would happen then? Would the government try to seal off the place, try to quarentine this plauge? What if they failed? What then? Alec sighed and pushed the thoughts away. He stood up, walked outside, and gently lifted off from the ground. He was dressed warmly, so the bitter winter wind that cut the sky didn't affect him too terribly. He floated up, up, surrounded by his thoughts. He was having too many sleepless nights of late. Part of the reason could be because he was staying up late watching TV, but usually he would fall asleep after a while if he did that. The problem was when he didn't. Then he could hardly fall asleep at all. He would lie in bed for many hours, wide awake. He felt most awake when he should be asleep, and most sleepy when he should be awake. He wondered what was causing it. There was really no reason why this should be so. Perhaps he was just meant to be nocturnal. That wouldn't be half bad if he actually had things to do at 4:30 in the morning. He leveled out a thousand feet or so above the ground and looked around. All was dark. Even the relatively small buisness district of the town was out for the night. Err... morning. Not a single house had a light on, but the moon was full in the sky, and Alec could see many things below. Most of the things were inert, but once in a while he was see a flicker of movement out of the corner of his eyes in the shadows below. Mostly he figured this was just the movement of a lonely coyote or perhaps even a mountain lion. He hadn't seen any around recently, but he knew for a fact that they occasionaly strolled through the yards of the outlying houses. 'Perhaps animals are affected by this disease, too,' Alec mused, thinking of the plauge of the town. 'And perhaps I might catch it floating around up here...' Nobody was quite sure how it spread. Was it by contact, or is it airborne? All Alec knew was that he didn't have it, and didn't plan on getting it. He descended back towards the ground, this time looking around more alertly. He was about halfway down when he saw movement in the bushes near his house. He froze where he was, suddenly too terrified to move. Thoughts blazed through his mind, each as unlikely as the next. He calmed himself down as best he could. Perhaps it was just a coyote. Perhaps a stray dog. Perhaps a... (werewolf) ... no! Not a werewolf! They did not exist! Alec's mind screamed that at him. It could not be. They did not exist. 'Oh really?' Another voice deep inside spoke. 'Is that so? Look around. It's a full moon.' Alec looked up. It was indeed a full moon. He looked back where the bushes had moved. Alec turned invisible and waited. A few minutes passed, and there was no sign of further movement from the bush. Alec was about to continue his descent when something suddenly walked out of the bush. It stood upright about seven feet tall, and appeared to be covered in coarse brown fur. It had a long snout full of viscious looking teeth, and two ears were perked up on it head. The eyes were black, but glittered in the moonlight. The body looked long and muscular, and when it moved it looked like liquid in action. The movements were fluid and silent, and looked very well practiced. It was the body of a predator, but not one born of this world. There was suddenly no doubt in Alec's mind. This was a werewolf. His mind tried to reject the idea. 'No,' it cried, 'it's not possible! It's irrational!' Irrational or not, it was there. The weight of the situation finally hit him, and Alec gasped. There was a werewolf in his yard! What the f**k was going on?! The head of the creature swung towards Alec and settled there. The snout parted and the creature uttered a growl that was deep, rumbling, and capable of freezing anything in it's tracks in fear. Alec gulped. It could smell him. It could hear him. It could taste him. Alec was afraid, but he knew something had to be done. He descended slowly towards the beast. The werewolf backed up a step and crouched down, ready to pounce at it's intended prey as soon as it was in range. The cold calulating eyes had a deep intelligence in them. One not found in ordinary creatures. Alec landed about fifty feet away from the werewolf, still invisible, and summoned his sword. He held it tightly in front of him as his armor rose from hsi skin and covered him. In moments, Alec was ready for battle. He dismissed his invisiblity and stood there in all his glory, his deadly dai-katana ready to destroy anything that stood in his path. The werewolf looked him in the eye, growled, and charged.
***
It only took a few minutes. When it was over, Alec stood over the body of the creature, triumphant in his victory. The beast lay for a moment, and then slowly began changing. First the fur fell off, and then the body shrank and contorted. A moment later, the dead body of a man of perhaps twenty lay before Alec's feet. Somehow, during the transformation, the man's clothes had returned to his body, and Alec searche the body. He found nothing except for a folded up note in the left pant's pocket. Alec lifted it gently and opened it. The note was short and to the point, and looked as if the hand that had written it was highly experienced at writing, as it was neat and clear. There was a well-drawn map of the area around Alec's house, followed by this message:
Your target is at this address. We believe him to be the leader of the group we have spoken of. From our reports, he should be asleep at around 4:30 or so, and will wake up a few hours from then. I trust you will be silent and swift as always. - T
'So somebody wants me dead,' Alec thought. 'Interesting...'
***
9:36 AM
Garrett woke up coughing. His lungs felt as if they were filled with fire, and his eyes were clouded to the point where he could hardly see. 'The plauge,' he thought vaugely. 'The plauge is here...' He fumbled for his phone, managed to open it, and dialed a number.
***
10:03 AM
Alec stood slightly off to one side as the others landed on his driveway. Once everyone had arrived, he stepped forward and began speaking. "As you know," he began, "Garrett has apparently contracted the disease. Before I wasn't so worried, but now I am." This was a partial lie. He had been very worried before, and now he was even more so. "I think that the least we can do is try to figure out what the f**k is going on here," he continued, "and if we can, then we need to destroy the source of the plauge." He didn't like saying that word, but it felt necessary. "Any ideas on what we should do?" Nobody spoke. Aaron fidgeted where he stood. He liked hanging out with the PNs and everything, but he wasn't so sure he could really help them out here. He thought that nobody here could really do anything about it at all. "Aaron, though you think you are not needed here, you may be." Alec looked at him. "Perhaps you could be more helpful than you think." He paused for a moment. "You are still experimenting with potions, correct? Of course you are. I can see it in your eyes. And your mind. So I want you to go home and bring back as many different potions as you think could help Garrett." "What if he dies from a potion? Or goes insane?" Ed asked. "Then we'll have to try other things." Alec said. "Just because you went insane from the first potion you ever had doesn't mean everyone else will. Besides, I think the crayone had something to do with your uh, reaction." Alec grinned. Aaron took off without a word and returned a few minutes later with a backpack on. Alec looked at it, and then spoke. "Let's get to Garrett's house and do this, then, shall we?"
***
10:30 AM
"Well, I think this one finally worked." Aaron announced to the room. Garrett opened his eyes and looked around. "What happened?" He asked. His speech was slurred and he was cross-eyed, but other than that he looked okay. "We gave you a bunch of potions and watched what happened." Ed explained. "A few of them seemed to had adverse effects, however..." Ed's eyes traveled over the large red bumps on Garrett's face that had not appeared until they gave him a purple potion, and then to a mark on his head that happened when he started twitching violently after drinking a brown potion. "... but I'm sure those will heal in time." Patrick finished for him. He looked like he was trying very hard not to burst out laughing. Garrett stood up, tottered, and then fell over. "Don't worry," Alec said, "I'm sure you'll remember how to walk in time. Oh, and Aaron," he continued, "you have any more of that particular potion?" "The light green one?" Aaron asked. "Yep. A bit. I can make more if you need it." "Oh, we will." Alec said. "We will." "But how will we get it to everyone in town?" Ed asked. He decided long ago that if the plauge got too bad, he would just take off and go somewhere. Canada maybe. "I dunno. Shoot it out of a big cannon all over town? And you are not going to Canada. You are staying here." Alec said. "I hate it when you do that..." Ed muttered. "Perhaps Garrett and I could make a storm and somehow incorporate the potion into the rain?" Aaron offered. He and Garrett both had air elements, and Aaron had water also. "That could work." Alec said. "Garrett, you up for it?" "Of course!" Garrett shouted. Something on the other side of the room spontanteously turned into a potato. Garrett laughed.
***
4:13 PM
"Umm... I think it worked, but everyone looks like they're all knocked out now." "Then what are we going to do about it, Aaron?" "I dunno. Have a dance party?" "No, that's for later. You got any potion that wake people up?" "Yep. I got a lot of it, too." "Then get to work."
***
6:59 PM
"They're waking up now! They're waking up!" "I know, Garrett. I know. I have eyes." "But what about that guy?" "The really tall one? What about him?" "How come he looks all angry?" "Well, it seems that we ruined his plans and now he's go to kill us. Wait..." The tall person in question walked up to the group that was standing in the middle of Main Street, where they had dragged all the unconcsious people for the waking up, and looked at them angrily. "You bastards think you can just come around and mess up everything I've tried to accomplish?!" He shouted at them. "Umm... yeah. That's what we do." Alec replied. He suddenly thought of the werewolf he had fought that morning. A connection formed in his mind, and he rushed forward and grabbed the man. "Who told you to do this?" He growled into the man's face. "Who?" The man pushed Alec back. "I did it on my own accord, fool. People equal crap, and I want to end them." Patrick cheered. "Slipknot! Hell yeah!" "Yeah, yeah, Slipknot. Woohoo." Alec said. "If he were Corey Taylor, then we would be happy. But he's just some freak." "You know, Alec," Patrick said, "You aren't writing this part very well." "d**nit Patrick," Alec said turning to him, "How many times do I have to tell you? This is real life! This is not a story!" "I have my facts and I am sticking by them." Patrick said smugly. Alec shook his head and turned around to face the man again. "But as for you..." Alec stopped. The man was gone. "d**nit!" Alec shouted. "Now he's gone, thanks to you!" "Not my fault," Patrick said. "You're just lazy and don't want to write out a whole big battle scene. 'Cause you're so lazy." "Which reminds me," Alec said, "I have something else to tell you guys." "Which is...?" Ed asked. "I was attacked this morning." "By who? The Boogeyman?" Patrick laughed. He didn't want to admit it, but he was rather uneasy about this. "I'm being serious here." Alec said. "I was attacked. By a werewolf." The group didn't say anything, but there thoughts were all the same: there was somebody behind all of this. "I know what you're all thinking," Alec said (which was, of course, true), "and I'm thinking the same thing. There's somebody out there who wants us dead. Why? I don't know. But there is. So we need to be ready for them. Okay?" Everyone nodded. "Now I have another announcement." Alec said. "I'm f**king hungry. Let's go get something to eat." Everyone nodded in agreement, and they left. 'Well, this story sucked.' Patrick thought. 'There was hardly any humor, hardly and battling, and it's short. Oh well. Maybe the next one will be better.' "Patrick! We are not in a story! Now stop thinking stupid crap and come on!" They all left. Except for Garrett, who was amusing himself by turning random things (occasionally people) into potatoes. When he turned to follow the others, they were already gone.
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Post by Mr. Penguin on Dec 7, 2006 11:45:48 GMT -5
... and number four.
Chapter Four: Chris
4:35 AM Fallbrook, CA
In the early morning hours, the air was cold, clear, and crisp, the sky outside still a star-studded cloak covering the land in darkness. The moon was just a sliver in the sky, hardly large enough to even see. Below, there was no movement on the streets, not even a lone car or a restless hobo. As we descend towards the earth, our attention is drawn to a particular house, which sticks out from all the others for one simple reason: there is a light on. We drift slowly in through the window and see that inside the room, there is a boy sitting on the side of his bed, looking at the ground. His hair is long and black. His face and entire body gives off the feeling of one who doesn't care for society or even people in general. His name is Chris. He is 15 years old, and goes to the local high school. He has few freinds, and even to them he is cold and distant. His thoughts center around life and death, and what the meaning of it all is. Little does he know, but he will soon learn much more than he ever imagined. As he sat, he was consumed by his dream he had just woken up from. Even for him, it was strange and disturbing...
(In it, he had been a cloaked figure, a shadow in the darkness. He jumped from house to house as lightly as a bird through the air. He landed on one roof, and felt a presence inside. A strong presence. He slipped in through an open window, and silently scoured the house. Finally, he found what he was looking for... Laying in bed was a boy of perhaps 13. The boy's hair was short and blond. He looked as innocent and defenseless as any high school prep, but the power coming from him was incredible. Quietly, Chris drew a dagger from a sheath in his belt, and slit the throat of the boy. Though not one drop of blood spilled, the dagger suddenly illuminated in a powerful light, of gray and blue. Chris put his dagger back in it's sheath, and saw that the cut was as clean as a cut in a piece of bread. Not one drop of blood flowed from the deep slash across the boy's throat. Satisfied, Chris stood up and turned to go, but in the doorway there was a dark figure, dressed in armor and holding a large curved sword. The face was covered by a mask, but Chris could tell this was no ally. He quickly turned toward a window and attempted to run out, but suddenly, the figure was in front of him, holding the sword horizontally, blocking Chris' escape. Chris turned again and headed for the door, but the figure was in front of him again. Desperate, Chris drew the illuminated dagger and plunged it deep into his enemies chest. For a moment, nothing happened. Then, the figure slowly raised a hand, reached out toward Chris, and clamped down on his throat. Chris was lifted into the air, struggling for breath. In the last moment of the dream, Chris fellt another hand press against his head quickly and powerfully, snapping his neck like a twig.)
... and wondering what it all meant. He had never snuck around at night killing innocent kids in their beds. He had snuck out at night, but that was only to fly when there was no-one to gape and stare at him. He would sometimes fly up high, highed than the clouds, and then hover, staring at the moon...
(The air was cold. Undeniably cold. He was hovering just a few feet from the top of a cloud that loomed out in all directions over the land. The moon was full in the sky, and he could see that the top of the cloud had hills and valleys and plains, much like the earth below. Where he was it was relatively flat, and the moonshine reflected off the cloud and made it seem almost as bright as day. Chris twitched suddenly. Had something just passed in front of the moon? He shook his head. Probably just a bird... ...out for a midnight flight? He doubted it. He spun in the air. He felt something fly past his back, narrowly missing him. Though he had not seen what it was, his mind's eye saw a pair of great leathery wings, attached to the shoulderblades of an otherwise normal looking man. But wait, did his mind really think of the fangs protruding from it's mouth, as it turned toward him in an evil grin? Was it prepared to strike? To reach out and take Chris' life in an instant? He turned around again. Was that it?! Did he just see it?! Frightened and confused to no end, Chris descended toward his house. He slept with the windows closed and the doors locked that night.)
... and the wicked things that come out at night. He sighed and rubbed his eyes. He needed to get some more rest. School started in only a few hours, hard as it is to believe. 'Or perhaps I can go out for a quick flight.' he thought suddenly. As if commanded by a force from elsewhere, he mechanically got up, opened the door, stepped outside, and flew.
***
He landed quietly on the side of a hill a few minutes later, with no recollection of the flight over. He had no idea where he was, and the silent hills around him gave no clue. He sighed and looked up the hill. Nothing there, except rocks and dirt. Suddenly, he felt a hand push him in the back. He stumbled a few steps forward and up the hill before quickly turning around. "Nothing there," he said quietly, trying to keep calm, "Nothing at all." He looked back up the hill, and was a large group of rocks that he had seemed to have missed before. Curious, he walked toward them. He felt a hand against his back again, but this time it was warm and encouraging. He turned his head as he walked, but saw nothing there. He reached the rocks quickly, and realized that they were actually stacked around a cave entrance in a manner that did not seem in the least bit natural. He should have been afraid and gone home immediately, but he didn't. Instead, he went in.
(It was dark and cold. Everything was cold. The dirt was cold. The rocks were cold. The air flowing in and out was cold. Chris was in a corner, shivering. Who were these people? These mean people who did this? I'm only nine! You can't do this to me! They hit him. They abused him. He screamed for them to stop, but they didn't. They laughed as they hurt him. Who were these people? Who were they? Why were they attacking him? Why him? Why? Why? Why?)
He hated caves. He didn't know why, but whenever he went into one, he felt pain. Not physical pain, but emotional pain. Had he fallen in one and been hurt as a child? He didn't know. He walked further and further in, his hands out in front of him to feel for any obstacles. 'Perhaps it's more than just claustrophobia,' he thought, 'why are caves linked to pain? Why?' Suddenly, he stopped. The light had reduced itself to a point where it was only shades of black, but he could tell he had entered a large room. The blacks went blacker, and the feeling of claustrophobia he had been feeling suddenly lifted a bit. The silence was complete. He had stopped breathing for fear of breaking the silence. Then, the silence broke. "Hello there." A voice called. It was low and seemed serpentile, as if the voice belonged to a viper or something of the sort. Chris was suddenly more afraid than he had ever been before. "Hello." The voice spoke again. This time it was closer. Chris shivered involuntarily. There were no sounds at all, and then the voice was right in his ear. "I've been waiting for you... Chris." Chris screamed.
***
"So let me get this straight, you want me to help you?" Chris was sitting on the floor in a corner of the cave, which was now illuminated by floating balls of fire. The old man stood in the middle, surveying the frightened Chris. "Yes. You are one in a million. You are perfect." The man grinned, showing many teeth. Two of which were long and curved and struck fear into Chris' heart. It was all he could do to sit and act calm. "Well, could you explain all of this again? I'm not sure I understand." "Fine," the man said, "I will." He cleared his throat. "I want to train you in the art of necromancy." The man paused for effect, and then continued. "You, as I have said, are perfect for this. You posses power of the two elements needed..." "Life and death." Chris put in. "... and your attitude toward others is excellent for this line of work." The man continued. "It is hard to make a good necromancer out of those who love other humans." The man spit in the dirt in disgust. "Love is for the weak-minded. For the foolish." He spit again, and then continued. "You, much like myself, could care less about one life out of the several billion in this world. You have already proved that to me." "In my dream." Chris said. "In your dream." The man agreed, and grinned again. There were those fangs. Chris was getting the idea that this man was more than just a necromancer... "In your dream," the man began again, "you proved that you have the guts to kill an innocent person in their bed. And with minimal guilt." The man began pacing back and forth. "Unfortunately, you lost your nerve when the visitor showed up. And you died." The man stopped pacing and faced Chris. "If you were faced with that situation again, you would not allow yourself to go down so easily, am I correct?" "You are indeed correct." Chris replied. "But I have a few questions for you." The man laughed and said, "I believe I know what they will be, but go ahead. Ask." "Well for one," Chris said, "you were controlling my dream, weren't you? And it was you who forced me to come here, right? And you aren't human, are you? You are a vampire, aren't you?" The man smirked. "Not bad, boy. Yes. You are correct on all those questions and assumptions. Of course, I didn't make much of an effort to conceal my tracks or who I am... but I saw no need." "So now you are going to make me into a vampire and teach me the ways of necromancy, am I correct?" Chris asked. He knew the answer before the man said it. "Yes." The man walked over to Chris and put his hand out. Chris reached out, grabbed the man's hand, and hauled himself up. "So," the man said, "which first? Necromancy, or vampirism?" "Do I have a choice?" Chris asked. The man grinned. "No."
***
Chris was sitting in the corner again. This time, however, he felt stronger. Faster. Smarter. He felt like he could take on the world. And he wanted to. "So," the man said, "now it's time to learn." He turned to the cave entrance, paused, and then turned back to Chris. "Actually, it might be better if you went home now. After all, you need to go to school today, don't you?" "I don't have to," Chris replied, "but if my parent's see that I'm not in bed in the morning, then I'm going to be in very big trouble." The man laughed. "My dear boy, don't you realize? You don't need them anymore. You don't need anyone anymore." Chris stood up and walked up to the man. "Really? But won't they worry about me?" The man smirked. "Maybe they will, maybe they won't. But I think it would be better if you went home now." Chris nodded and began walking out of the cave. He noticed another thing. He could now see infinitely better in the dark. "Wait." The man said. Chris turned around. "Don't forget to stay out of the sun." "But wait," Chris said, "How am I supposed to do that?" "Cover yourself completely with clothes. And wear a hood. A deep hood. If your face is in shadow, the sun can't affect it, can it?" "I suppose not..." Chris sighed. "But what about my hands." "Gloves, my boy. Gloves." "But what if it's hot out?" "Wear thinner gloves. Just as long as they shield your skin from the sun." "Would sunblock work?" The man gritted his teeth. "I wouldn't bet my life on it. Which is what you will do if you try to use it instead of gloves." "But what if..." Chris began. "No more questions." The man cut him off. "Return here after sunset tomorrow for your first lesson." Chris nodded. "But wait, what's your name?" The man smiled. "I am Tancred." Chris nodded. 'Tancred,' he thought, 'what an odd name.' And without another word, Chris turned and left.
***
Chris managed to convince him mom that he was sick and needed to have all the windows covered with paper so that no light could come in. It seemed liked it would be hard to convince her at first, but he soon realized that she went with it suprisingly well. All day, he sat in his room, examining his new body. His muscles had grow incredibly, and he found that he felt lighter than he had before. His fangs came in quickly (befoer he even got home), but the pain while they did was intense. It was all he could to keep from screaming. Now that they were there it seemed like there weren't leaving anytime soon. He also noticed as he looked in the mirror that his eyes had turned from blue to red. It was a deep, rich red, and would stand out in a crowd like nothing else. He wondered for a long time how he was going to cover them up. His first idea was contacts, but he realized that it would be hard to convince his parents he needed them, and that it wouldn't exactly be easy to explain to the eye doctor why his eyes were red. His second idea was the one he stuck with. He would have to steal them. From whom and how he would do it he didn't know, but he decided he would figure it out in time. Finally evening came. He was hungry. And he was starting to get pretty thirsty, too. For blood.
***
Chris landed lightly at the cave entrance and went in. He was able to easily navigate his way through and into the chamber where he had been the night before. And as before, the man was there. "Ah, you have arrived." The man said, turning around. Now that Chris' night vision was fully developed, he no longer needed to balls of light the man had created the night before. The man knew this, of course, so he didn't bother to ask about them. "So," the man began, "necromancy." He smiled. "As I'm sure you must know, necromancy is the art of creating undead servents from corpses and skeletons." 'Geez, this guy doesn't waste time,' Chris thought, and nodded. "Good. So, the first thing you need for it, obviously, is a corpse." Chris nodded. "Now, one thing about corpses... no matter how long they have been dead for, most still retain some residual part of their soul. So naturally, if you want a good skeletal warrior, you need to find a corpse that was a soldier or a serial killer or something while he was alive. Understand?" Chris nodded. He understood. "But nevertheless," Tancred continued, "the soul fragment they still hold on to isn't strong enough to sustain their corpse. So naturally, they need a new one." Tancred paused and surveyed Chris for a moment, and the continued. "So you must steal one. With this." Tancred pulled out a dagger and handed it to Chris. The blade on it was about six inches long, and seemed to be made of bone or something similar, as it seemed to be semi-translucent. The handle was made of what looked like black steel. The entire dagger reflected no light. Rather, it seemed to absorb it. "This is one of only a few daggers like it in the world. This is a Soul Reaper's Dagger. You slit someone's throat, and the dagger captures their soul." Tancred smirked. "But not all souls are good, of course. If you steal the soul of a sick person, then the soul would not be fit for use in a minion." He began pacing back and forth and continued. "The best souls are those of the young the strong. Which is why the best necromancer's are those who care not for lives. After all, we must do all of the dirty work ourselves." Chris spoke for the first time since entering the cave. "Why don't we have other people do the dirty work?" Tancred laughed. "Because we can't trust anybody else, kid. We can't just go out and ask if anyone wants to kill some kids for us and steal their souls." "But what if we find people who would? People who we could trust?" Tancred stopped his pacing and sighed. "It's doubtful. Perhaps one day it will happen. But not now. And to continue..." Tancred continued pacing again. "But after you have the soul, you have two choices. You can either store the soul in a soulstone for later use, or you could enchant it directly into a corpse. The spell for doing which, I will teach you another time, but now..." He stopped pacing and faced Chris. He grinned widely, his facngs gleaming. "Now you need to learn to hunt."
***
Chris fell into bed, exhausted, and looked at the clock by his bed. It was 3:13 AM. School was in a few hours. He groaned. He would have decided then and there to skip school, were it not for the words Tancred had left him with...
(Chris and Tancred floated a few hundred feet above Chris' house, their cloaks blowing out behind them in the wind. Tancred smiled and looked at Chris. "You have done well. Few could hunt as well as you on the first try. You will make a good necromancer. A very good necromancer." Chris grinned. His teeth, as well as his lips, were stained red with blood. "I'm glad you have confidence in me, master." He felt better than he ever had before. The blood he consumed strengthened him, enpowered him. He felt like he could conquer the world with hardly raising a finger. "But you must remember that no matter how you feel, no matter what you want to do, you must remain inconspicuous. Continue going to school. Act the same as you always have." "Shouldn't be hard." Chris smirked. "Being a vampire shouldn't change much." "But don't forget that you must keep you skin away from the sun." "I know, master. I will not forget." Chris grinned.)
... which he would not forget. He had washed his mouth out with mouthwash to rid the smell of blood on his breath. He debated whether he should sleep or not for the rest of the night. He had already found the clothes he would wear. All black, including the boots, the gloves, and the sweatshirt with the hood. The deep hood. He put it all on and looked at himself in the mirror. A shadow layed across his face, and his eyes glittered beneath them. His skin was pale and smooth, his lips a light red. He cursed in his head. They would be able to see his eyes at school! He calmed himself down and thought. "Okay," he said quietly, "if anyone asks, this is all just makeup. There are other kids who dress like this at school. I won't be that out of place." A thought occured to him then. "What if the others that dress like this are vampires?" He whispered as he stared in the mirror. "What if they are? But how would I approach them about that?" He looked down. "Perhaps I shouldn't." He looked up at himself in the mirror again. "Perhaps..." He shook his head and went to bed.
***
The next day, nobody seemed to notice him. Nobody gave him a second glance. Nobody stared at him. He passed through the day as quietly as a ghost. Several times he had to restrain himself from taking out a person and draining their blood. The thought was primate and savage, and very difficult to restrain. The day passed without incident. At least he thought it did. Chris did not notice, but in one class, there was someone who could not take his eyes off him. Patrick sat in the back of his English class, watching Chris. The kid has always creeped him out a little, but he was different this time. Chris was dressed slightly differently, and from what little Patrick could see of his face, it was a very plae white. And Patrick also sensed something in Chris... something new and different. Patrick pondered this throughout the class, and as he walked out when the bell rang, it hit him. Chris was a vampire. Chris was an enemy.
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hopeless
Lark Still in the Egg
don't let the butterflies blind you
Posts: 58
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Post by hopeless on Dec 8, 2006 23:37:45 GMT -5
ooooooh this one was good. the third Patrick was right about lol but the fourth was the best of them so far, when will there be a 5th? and who is Chris in real life, if the PN's are you and your friends where does he come in?
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Post by Mr. Penguin on Dec 9, 2006 0:49:45 GMT -5
Chris? I got the general idea for him from I guy I was freinds with while a freshman at Fallbrook. I knew I wanted to have a bad guy, and a necromancer type, and then I was like "Hey, I'll combine them!" And Chris was kinda gothic when I knew him, so it kinda fit. But anyways, here is number five.
Potato Ninjas!
Chapter Five: Surfacing
1:34 PM Monday Fallbrook, CA
Patrick sat in the back of his English class in his usual spot. From his vantage point, he could watch Chris, who was acting odder and odder. Chris had never been quite normal to begin with, but his new strangness was rather disturbing to Patrick. Patrick had decided that Chris was an enemy, but he wasn't completely sure what to make of him. A vampire, probably, but what else? He knew there was something else hidden in Chris' shadowed eyes. Something even darker and more sinister than he wanted to think about. Patrick had told the others about Chris yet, but was planning on doing so today. Perhaps they could figure out exactly what it was that Chris was hiding... Patrick's mind wandered off to other, more trivial things as he sat. When the bell rang, he quietly put his things away and headed for the door. Before he got there however, Chris was in front of him. When he spoke, his voice was quiet but somehow imposing at the same time. "Patrick." Chris said, staring into his eyes. Patrick could see now that Chris' eyes were red. Very red. "I've noticed you and your freinds many times. I'm not sure whether you have ever noticed me, but I have ah... very similar powers." Chris' expression had remained stolid and rather dour while he was talking, and Patrick took notice of this. "And I was wondering whether uh, you needed any extra help or anything." "Help with what?" Patrick inquired. "With anything, really. I can be quite useful. Or even just to be around." "I'll see about it. I'm sure you've noticed where we hang out, yes? Be there tomorrow after school and we will discuss things." Chris looked about to grin, then suppressed it and kept his face stolid. "I'll be there." He turned and left without another word, leaving Patrick alone in the room. 'I'll have to warn the others.' Patrick thought as he left the room. 'I have a bad feeling about this...'
***
3:32 PM Tuesday
Chris landed lightly in front of the group on top of the usual building. He surveyed them and then spoke. His voice was quiet and powerful as usual, but this time held a certain note of apprehension. "I am here." He announced. Alec walked up to him slowly. He was taller than Chris and looked down into his face and spoke in a quiet voice of his own. "Who are you and what do you want?" He asked. Chris blinked, rather startled by the bluntness and hostility in Alec's voice. "What, no formalities? Why so hostile?" Alec sniffed. "I know you're not here to be freinds. Who are you? Who sent you?" Chris backed up a step. "Nobody sent me. I came here on my own accord. Who am I? I'm a nobody. Does it matter?" "Yes," Alec growled, "Yes it does. Vampire." Chris lowered his head for a moment and then looked up. "I see there is no fooling you. You must be telepathic, am I correct? Yes, I thought so. So since you want to be blunt, then I shall be, too." Chris advanced a step toward Alec, who back up. Chris' eyes were glowing underneath his hood. He had a demonic look about him that Alec didn't like. Chris spoke as he advanced. First one step, then another, then another. "I am sent here by a being more powerful than any of you. The message? We want you gone. And if you don't leave, then I will have to make you leave by force. Understand?" Alec was now lined up with the rest of the group, and he stopped backing up. "Yes I understand. But now I've got something I want you to understand. I don't know who you think you are, or who your master thinks he is, but I'm going to make one thing clear: we are not leaving. We are in nobodies way, and we don't plan on being so. So it is you who must leave. And tell you master to f**k off." Chris grinned. His teeth glistened in the shadow of his hood. "It seems we have a standoff here. What to do? What to... do?" Suddenly his hands were up, and in them a massive scythe that looked like it were capable of cutting through a brick wall. His grin widened. "Let's do it the old fashioned way." He swung down as hard as he could. His swing was blocked by Alec's dai-katana, which was out in an instant. His armor was already forming on his skin as he glared into Chris' eyes. "Then let's do this." He spun out of the swordlock and stood at the ready. The other's around him had their weapons out and were ready to rumble. Chris looked at Alec with wide, frightened eyes. This was the one who slew him in his dream. The dream with the
(Laying in a bed in a dark house was a boy of perhaps 13. The boy's hair was short and blond. He looked as innocent and defenseless as any high school prep, but the power coming from him was incredible. Quietly, Chris drew a dagger from a sheath in his belt, and slit the throat of the boy. Though not one drop of blood spilled, the dagger suddenly illuminated in a powerful light, of gray and blue. Chris put his dagger back in it's sheath, and saw that the cut was as clean as a cut in a piece of bread. Not one drop of blood flowed from the deep slash across the boy's throat. Satisfied, Chris stood up and turned to go, but in the doorway there was a dark figure, dressed in armor and holding a large curved sword. The face was covered by a mask, but Chris could tell this was no ally. He quickly turned toward a window and attempted to run out, but suddenly, the figure was in front of him, holding the sword horizontally, blocking Chris' escape. Chris turned again and headed for the door, but the figure was in front of him again. Desperate, Chris drew the illuminated dagger and plunged it deep into his enemies chest. For a moment, nothing happened. Then, the figure slowly raised a hand, reached out toward Chris, and clamped down on his throat. Chris was lifted into the air, struggling for breath. In the last moment of the dream, Chris felt another hand press against his head quickly and powerfully, snapping his neck like a twig.)
boy who he killed. Had this person had the same dream? Who was he? d**nit, who?! Chris was afraid. His hands shook for a moment, but he steadied them. He growled at his opponents. "You guys think you can take me on? Well try. Just try and see what happens." There was a pause where nobody moved. Suddenly, Garrett charged at Chris, his eyes closed, swinging his club in front of him like a blind man trying to find a wall. Chris grinned, sidestepped the attack easily, and kicked Garrett in the back. Garrett went sprawling to the ground, rolled, and jumped back up. To his side, Chris saw another person charging. Chris gasped and stepped back. It was the boy in the dream. The one he had killed. Chris swung his scythe at the boy, blocking the other's machete. He spun out of the block, raised a hand, and shot a bolt of death magic at his opponent. The bolt flew for a moment, but then was knocked away by a blast of water. Chris spun and saw Alec with his hand raised. Alec grinned at him and then dissappeared. 'd**nit!' Chris thought, 'he's got shadow ability!' Chris heard a sound to the side, and saw nothing. Another sound, another turn. Suddenly there were sounds all around. Sounds of laughter, of footsteps, of
(It is dark and cold. He is in a cave. He is in pain. Why would the mean people do this to him? Why him? Why? Why? Why?)
pain. Chris screamed in fury and swung his scythe in a wide arc all around him, striking nothing but air. A powerful force hit his back and knocked him to the ground. He slid, jumped up, and saw Alec standing there. Chris spun around and saw Patrick standing behind him, daggertail in hand. Chris turned, and there was the boy. He turned again, there was Garrett with his club. There was another guy he didn't know with a large sword in his hand. Next to him was another guy he didn't know with another large sword in hand. Chris had been surrounded so fast he didn't even realize it. He snarled at his opponents and spoke again. "Come on then. Let's do this." All at once, every one of his surrounders pounced at him. Chris spun and slashed, but he was hit again and again on all sides. He spun and rolled and jumped and kicked and slahed with his scythe, but it seemed no matter how hard he fought, his enemies fought twice as hard. At one moment it would seem as if he had the advantage, and then he would be knocked down and his enemies were swarming over him. Again and again he got up and fought only to get knocked down and pummeled again. He was bleeding from numerous wounds all over his body, and his blood ran cold from his body. The sky above had turned from sunny and warm to overcast and cold during the battle, and as Chris' hood fell back, his enemies could finally see his face. It was pale white and covered in many scratches. His eyes were sunk deep back in his head and glowed an unnatural red, almost matching the color in his lips. As he snarled, Alec and the others could easily see the long fangs in his mouth. They swarmed him yet again, knocking him over. Chris managed to get up into a crouching position, and with a scream of fury, a black nova shot out from his body, kocking all his opponents backward and away from him Chris back up quickly and held his scythe out in front of him to block. He spoke, and his voice was hardly more than a growl. "You bastards may have won this round, but I'll be back. Trust me, my work here isn't done." He jumped high into the air, and blasted off, leaving only his blood behind.
***
"They were more powerful than I expected, master. I barely managed to get away." "It is alright, Chris. Next time they won't be so lucky. Don't forget, you still have much to learn." "Yes, master." Chris was standing before Tancred in the darkness of the cave where they had met before, but now it was a little different. The space seemed larger yet somehow warmer, and there was a chest in the back in which many soulstones were placed. Most of them were empty, but a few held souls and were glowing dully, though they could not be seen, as the chest was closed and locked. Near it was a passageway leading to another chamber, which had in it many stone table, upon which were placed bodies. Some looked recently deceased, and others were mere skeletons. Each had already been enchanted to hold together and not decay. As with the filled soulstones, some Tancred had found, but most were gotten by Chris. It was part of his training, after all. "I have something to teach you now, actually." Tancred said. His expression was difficult to read for Chris. It was something like pride, but Chris found that with Tancred, you could never eally be sure. "something important." Tancred grinned, and then continued. "You have collected several bodies and souls, and I am pleased. Now, you must learn to fuse the two of them together. I will show you once, and then you will try. We have plenty to work with, so do not worry if you fail the first time, okay? Now, follow me over here..."
***
Chris stood and admired the two skeletons that stood before him. They were both tall and though they had no muscles, they were powerful. It had been much to Chris' suprise when they had spoke. They hadn't much to say, of course, but even still, Chris was suprised and pleased. Tancred was, as well. "Very well done, my boy!" Tancred had exclaimed when Chris had performed the spell correctly the first time. "You have very much talent, there is no doubt. You will be very powerful one day. Very powerful." Chris was grinning. The success of his learning had driven the battle he had had only a few hours earlier out of his mind, but another thing was beginning to creep into his mind... he was thirsty. Thirst was never what it had been before he became a vampire. Before, it had been something you felt every once in a while if you hadn't had a soda or anything recently. Now, it was an ever constant freind, always lurking in the back of his mind, waiting for an opportunity to be satisfied. But now it came forward and seized him. He looked at Tancred. "Master, is it time to hunt yet?" "No, not yet, my boy. Soon, though. Soon. For now, we need to get these new minions of yours some equipment, eh?" "Oh yes, of course." Chris frowned. "What will we get them? And from where?" Tancred smiled mysteriously and he strode to the back of the chamber. Like the main chamber, there was a chest here, but this one was very much larger. Tancred opened it with a wave of a hand, and grabbed a few things out. He turned around and called out. "Skeletons! Over here!" Obligingly, the reanimated skeletons turned and strode over to Tancred. One would expect a skeleton to walk stiffly and awkwardly, but they walked very smoothly and elegantly, like dancers. They were only bones, after all. Only bones and magic, with no bulky skin or muscles to get in the way. They walked up to Tancred and the taller of the two said in a deep resonant voice, "Yes?" "I have things for you." Tancred said and held them out. The taller of the two grabbed one bundle and held it up to his face. A few things fell out of his hands and he regarded them with the dark hollows of his eyes. "What are they?" He asked. 'For a skeleton, he sure is curious,' Chris thought as he watched in wonder. "Clothes. If you are to accompany Chris, then you must be able to fit in, correct?" "Yes." The skeleton replied, putting on a long black cloak. He lowered the hood and began slipping on the gloves. "Of course." The shorter of the two (who was still relatively tall) copied the taller with the clothes. When finished, they both resembled tall monks in black robes. No part of their bones could be seen, and their faces were covered by black masks and the shadow of the hood. Inside their robes, they both had black powdered broadswords on low-slung swordbelts. They could be drawn easily if needed, and were concealed quite effieciently. Tancred looked them over and nodded satisfactorally. "They look good. What do you think, Chris?" Chris was grinning. He walked up to his new robed bodyguards, who tunred to face him. "They're perfect." "Good." Tancred grinned also. "Now, these two will accompany you always. You should think up names for them if you want. But for now, I think we should get the rest of these corpses animated." "Yes, master." Chris said. "But what shall we do with the ones who aren't with me always?" "Oh, they will remain here." Tancred said sagely. "They have to guard your home, don't they?" Chris gasped. "You mean, you mean this will all be mine?" Tancred smiled. "Yes. I have another place that I call home. It is far away from here, but I can find this place easily and quickly if needed." Chris was grinning again. "Sounds d**n good." "But as much as you like this place, you must remember to remain as inconspicuous as possible. Continue going to school. The other's won't dare attack you there, and especially not if you have these two with you. And remember to not raise suspicion with your parents. As trivial as they may seem now, they are actually still very important." Tancred began to walk away, but stopped and tunred. "Oh, and if you need me, just use this." He tossed a small stone to Chris. "It is a speaking stone. Just speak into it with my name in mind, and I will hear you. Goodbye." Tancred left without another word. Chris looked at the spot where Tancred had been before he dissapeared out of the cave for a moment and then cussed. "d**nit! He didn't help me with animating the rest of the corpses!" He stomped his foot. He considered using the speaking stone, but then decided against it. He supposed Tancred wanted him to do it himself. "Well then," he said aloud to nobody in particular (though the skeltons were listening with idle interest), "better get to work."
***
Alec sat at home, thinking about the day. Chris had not hesitated in attacking them, and it seemed like he would kill them if he was able. Alec stood up, sighed, and began pacing. First the werewolf, and now this? What was going on? Alec sat down again. One thing was certain, though. Somebody wanted him, and the rest of the Potato Ninjas dead. For whatever reason. "f**king lame, man." He said quietly. "I just wanna blow crap up in my spare time, but there always has to be things to do." Alec sighed again, closed his eyes, and began to meditate. It was a nightly thing he would always do before bed. Not only would it help him become more powerful, but it also made him more sleepy. It didn't always help him sleep, though. After meditating, he would usually still lie awake, unable to sleep, for he was hardly sleepy at all. He pushed these thoughts out of his mind and focused all his energy on a single thought: power. He pushed with his mind, tried to acheive any sort of breakthrough. After a few minutes, he got it. He suddenly felt weightless, and powerful beyone belief. He often felt this way while flying, but this was even greater than that. He felt like he were on a whole new level of awareness, of power. He pushed into this harder, and felt something surfacing in his mind. It was like a ball of light. There was no other way to describe it. It lifted him up, and carried him to new heights. In his mind's eye, he saw what he interpreted to be thousands, if not millions, of stars. He "blinked" and they all went out in their own seperate balls of flame. The power that surged through him was incredible. He concentrated harder, but all of a sudden, all of it dissapeared, and the full weight of reality set back in. Alec sighed and opened his eyes. Though the vision was gone, he still felt some of the power coursing through him. He raised his hands in front of his face and in the dim light he saw that they were glowing faintly. Alec grinned. He was getting stronger.
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Post by Mr. Penguin on Dec 9, 2006 21:28:18 GMT -5
And here is number six! Yay! ... or not. Whatever.
Chapter Six: Once Upon Your Dead Body
1:17 PM Tuesday Fallbrook, CA
The weather is cold and overcast, and a bitter winter wind rolled across the campus of the high school. Students were all dressed as warmly as possible, and Chris was no exception. Then again, he always dressed in his unusual way now, even when it was hot. And it seemed that of late, he was difficult to look directly at. It was as if he were dim or something. Partly in this world, partly somwhere else. If you didn't look directly at him, you could see him perfectly fine. But if you attempted to look straight at him, it was almost as if you couldn't see him You could almost see staright through him, but not quite. This was one of the many observations Patrick had made of their new enemy over the past few weeks since their fateful battle against him. Patrick, like the others, had been practicing his skills, hoping that next time, Chris wouldn't get away so easily. Patrick had the idea that Chris was doing the same. He had also noticed on several occasions that Chris seemed to be followed wherever he went by two tall figures in black cloaks. Like Chris, they were difficult, if not impossible, to look at. If you tried to look directly at them, you couldn't see them at all. The only time they were visible was if you saw them out of the furthest corner of your eye while they were moving. Otherwise, it was like they just weren't there. Even when he couldn't see them, Patrick knew they were there. He felt a dark presence whenever he was near Chris, and it was much more than he had felt before their battle. He had told the others, and they said just to keep an eye out, and if the things really were there, to try to figure out exactly what they were. So far, he had been unseccesful at this. But now, he had an idea.
***
2:58 PM, Wednesday
Chris stared at the clock in his class, trying as hard as he could to make it move faster. There were only two minutes left 'til freedom, and he wanted to get away as quickly as he could. He had brought in a fresh skelton the night before, and wanted to get on with the process as soon as he could. So far he figured he had twenty-five minions or so. Thinking of this wonderful number again, he grinned. He had found that creating them took a lot of power out of him, so after the first day (in which he and Tacred had put together three) he limited himself to one per day. He tried to do two, and succeeded, but the second one was semi-retarded, and as soon as it was awake it started shouting about potatoes and their impact on the economy of Ireland. Chris killed that one quickly, especially since it reminded him of his newfound mortal enemies. And d**nit, what would a skeleton know about Ireland? Maybe the soul he took from the hobo outside of Albertson's hadn't been the best pick after all... The bell rang, shattering his thoughts. He was out of the door in a about a second, and into the air and on his way to the cave even quicker. He suddenly felt a presence behind him, and turned in the air to look. He saw nothing except teenagers streaming out of classrooms below him. He shrugged and continued on. He felt as if the presence were following him the whole way to the cave, but he dismissed it as simple paranoia. He landed lightly at the entrance, and as he passed into the darkness, a rough voice spoke loudly. "There are intruders following you. Shall we destroy them?" The minion he had decided to be cheif of guard of his cave was unnaturally lagrge. Unlike most of the others, this one hadn't been a skeleton when he found it, but rather a corpse in the very earliest stages of decay, and Chris enchanted it with the best soul he had as soon as possible. The result from this had been a massive monster, about seven feet tall, with the body and mind of a cold-blooded killer. Chris made him cheif of guard, without any hesitation whatsoever. "Where?" Chris said, turning around. "I see nothing." "One is invisible." The guard cheif explained. "The others are hiding." Chris still didn't know exactly what sort of senses the minions of his had, but he knew that whatever they were, they were d**n good. He thought for amoment, and then spoke. "I will go out and meet them. After I make my first move, and they strike back, I want you to take all the guards you can and attack them, understand?" "Yes." The cheif of guard explained. Chris walked out of the cave, and floated up into the air. He still saw nothing, but he thought de felt a presence again. "Show yourself!" He shouted at the seemingly empty air. For a moment nothing happened. Then all at once, six figures appeared, each with a weapon in hand. It was the Potato Ninjas. "d**n these fools who think they can just show up and try to kill me whenever they want." He muttered as he drew his scythe. "And their name sucks, too." Alec moved forward. "Our name does not suck, and we are here to get rid of you, as you seem to want to get rid of us. The feeling should be mutual, correct?" "Yeah, sure, whatever..." Chris said. He drew back his scythe, and then chopped it down through the air. A bolt of dark matter shot forth toward his enemies. Alec reflected the attack with a shield he fashioned out of water in an instant. The bolt shot off to his right, and hit a small tree, which shrivelled up and fell over in a suprisgly short amount of time. Aaron, watching this, gasped. "You killed a tree! I was gonna have that one beat you down, too!" He shot a poweful gust of wind at Chris, who defelected that attack with a spin of his scythe. Alec was about to attack himself when he saw something coming out of the cave behind Chris. It appeared to be a very large figure clad in a black robe, with a dark broadsword one gloved hand. As it flew toward the PNs, it's hood fell back and revealed an extremely ugly face, covered with scars, and seemed to be in the early stages of decay. Alec gasped as more began pouring out from the cave behind Chris, who was now laughing manically. Chris's minions formed a wall in front of him. swords raised to attack. "Destroy them!" Chris shreiked. "Destroy them all!" The minions (of which there were twleve; Alec did some very quick counting) flew toward the PNs, weapons raised. Alec gripped his sword tightly and flew out to meet them head-on. Behind him, the others were doing the same. He swung his sword in a quick upward arc toward one of the creatures who was bearing down on him. His sword flicked through the cloak and scratched his opponenet, who recoiled momentarily, and then swung it's sword at him. Alec managed to slip to the side, but the sword managed to take a chunk out of his right leg. Alec gasped in pain, and swung for his enemies head. He missed the head, but hit the skeletons left arm full-on, sending blue sparks flying out of the robe and around Alec's sword. The skeleton quickly rolled into the attack, forcing Alec's sword back, and dropped below him. He brought the sword straight up in an arc toward Alec's now-armored leg. Alec tried to dodge it, but the attack hit him right where it was meant to, spinning him around in the air like a top. He lost a few feet, and leveled himself out right in front of his enemy. He lashed out with one leg, attempting to knock the skeltons head off. He hit it hard, but the skeleton knock his foot away and shot a ball of dark matter at Alec, who raised an arm to try and block the attack. It hit him on his upraised arm, driving him back a few feet. He recovered, raised his sword and swung at the skeleton, who dodged the attack nimbly, striking at Alec's unprotected back. Alec was lucky in the the skelton missed by a foot or so. He spun, raised his legs to his chest and kicked out with both feet at his enemy. The skeleton flew backwards through the air, hit the side of the hill, and exploded into a million tiny bone fragments, which turned to dust in seconds. The sword and robe caught fire and were gone in another moment. Having bested his enemy, Alec turned to veiw the battlefield. Patrick had one corpse in a headlock, and was repeatedly tearing chunks out of it's back with his daggertail. If there had been any doubt as to whether undead minion felt pain before, it was answered now. The corpse was screaming loudly and thrashing around, trying to get free. Alec looked for Garrett, and finally saw him laying unconscious on the ground. Alec shook his head. Garrett had a lot of training ahead of him. Zack was taking on two skeletons at once, moving at an increedible speed, deflecting attack and dishing them out. As Alec watched, one skeleton lost it's head to Zack's rapidly moving sword, and tumbled to the ground, burning away. Ed, most unfortunately, was in combat against the guard chief, and was losing. Alec watched unhappily as the cheif roundhouse kicked Ed in the face, Chuck Norris style. Ed fell back for a moment, looking dazed, before coming back and attempting to hit the cheif, who was blocking every move and countering each with a hit of his own. Aaron, much to Alec's suprise, was actually doing alright. He was taking on a medium-sized zombie-looking creature, who only seemed to have about half of it's flesh. It's cloak had apparently fallen off during the fight, and the creature was lucky the sun wasn't out. If it had, the creature, much like Chris, would have been dust in an instant. Alec then noticed that there were still about ten enemies in a circle around the combatants, watching. As Alec looked toward them, one drew it's sword and flew toward Alec. He raised on hand and shot a jet of water out as hard as he could. The blast went straight through the creature, blasting it into many flaming pieces. Alec looked around desperately, wondering where Chris was. Finally he saw Chris floating a hundred feet or so above the battle, watching with grim satisfaction. Alec was enraged, but knew he could not take on Chris by himself. Instead, he flew over to where Ed was. On his way, he witnessed a smahing blow administered to Ed's face by the guard cheif's fist. Ed went cross-eyed, groaned, and fell. The cheif laughed as he watched Ed falling slowly toward the earth. Alec flew at the cheif, lopped off his head in one short swing, and then reached out to Ed with his mind and stopped his fall. Ed stopped only a few feet off the ground. Alec quickly set him down with his telekenisis, and then turned to face the three enemies that were now charging him. He closed his eyes, focused for a moment, and then opened them again. He now saw everything in a much different light. The colors (of which there were few) were suddenly standing out stronger, and around each person he could see strong auras. The three minions charging toward him were swathed in black auras, which reeked of death and suffering. In his new senses, he could hear the screaming of the souls trapped in the undead bodies, trying vainly to escape. Everything seemed suddenly slower. Alec charged toward his three enemies, swinging his sword in a horizontal attack. The first he missed, but only barely. It snarled and swung it's sword down at Alec, but he was too busy watching the progress of his sword. It cut through the second one, not deeply, but not shallowly. The third one, which was now the closest, screamed as it's sword arm was shattered from it's body, effectively disabling it for a few moments while Alec dealt with it's cohorts. The second one mimiced the first and brought it's sword stright down at Alec's head, hitting him hard. If it hadn't been for his armored helmet, Alec would have been finished right then and there. The third enemy took a different approach as it saw Alec starting to loses altitude and brought it fought up. It missed miserably, and as Alec regained his senses, he struck out at that one first. His jet of water missed the skeleton by a foot or so, and both of the skeltons swung at him at the same time, one just barely nicking him, the other missing entirely. Alec shook his head, looked at this enemies, and then launched forward between them. Once behind his opponenents, he turned and did his own roundhouse kick at their heads. He hit the first one square on the side of it's head, and the momentum continued as the unlucky skeleton as well as Alec's foot hit the other skeleton, causing both of them to explode on contact. He was about to see how the others were doing again when a ball of dark matter whizzed two feet from his head. He turned and saw the third skelton, the one he had chopped the arm off of, floating a few yards from him, grinning. Alec raised his hand, aimed, and launched an massive ball of water at the skeleton, who disintergrated when the ball hit him. Alec, having defeated his three new foes, turned and surveyed the battlefield. Aaron and Ed (who apparently woke up during Alec's fight) were both losing to two enemies each. Alec knew if those two didn't get away soon, then they might end up dead. Patrick had been swarmed by four skeletons, and was barely holding them off. He was bleeding from several spots, and looked about ready to faint at any moment. Zack was still dominating in his area, knocking skeletons away as soon as they came. He didn't destroy every enemy he hit, but he at least knocked them away. Much to Alec's suprise, Garrett was up and doing pretty decently. He saw Garrett and a zombie-type exchanging blows, both. one looking like they weren't planning on giving up any time soon. As happy as he was with Garrett and Zack's performance, Alec knew they were losing this battle. It seemed that Chris had an endless supply of minions at his disposal, whereas Alec only had himself and the five others. Alec raised his head and shouted as loud as he could, "Potato Ninjas! Retreat! Retreat!" For a moment, everything stopped. Then, all six PNs took off in a gust off wind, effectively escaping. Chris still hovered above the scene, watching the PNs fleeing. He was grinning. "Let's see how soon they try that again!" He laughed, as he looked around for his cheif of guard. He didn't see him. Unhappily, he swooped down to one of his minions who had been watching. "What happened to the cheif of guard?" He asked. "The leader killed him." The minion replied. "d**nit!" Chris shouted. He landed at the cave and went in, fuming. His cheif of guard, gone? What the f**k was he going to do now? "d**n those Potato Ninjas." He growled. "d**n them."
***
Alec landed at home, the others by his side. They did not say a single word on their way back, and they did not speak now. Alec lead them inside and into his room. They all sat down, looking tired and beaten. Except for Zack, who seemed to be ready for more. "Well," Alec began after a minute or so, "At least now we know where he stays. And how powerful he is." The others nodded. "What should we do now?" Aaron asked, looking at Alec. Alec sighed. "I don't know. We need to take time to recouperate. We need to train and put up a better fight next time." He looked at the ground. "We didn't do horribly this time, but we didn't do great either." Everyone nodded. "But next time," Alec went on, "We're going to kick his motherf**king ass."
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Post by Mr. Penguin on Dec 12, 2006 0:26:58 GMT -5
... and it seems like nobody is reading these, as nobody's even ever on here, but here's number seven anyway. Oh, and by the way, I'm changing it so that these are now chapters, not stories. So yeah.
Chapter Seven: The Telling Truth
11:21 PM Thursday Fallbrook, CA
The air was cold and dry, and a wind blew out of the east over the hills, whispering thrugh the trees and swirling leaves fallen on the ground. The moon, now only half full (or half empty?), is at the moment hidden by the sparse clouds that appear intermittently acroos the sky. The moon parts it's cover from the cloud, and we see below us the town stretched out, much as we have before. For all the things that have happened to the Potato Ninjas, the town is more or less the same as it always has been, and as it always will be. And speaking of the PNs, we now chance upon Aaron out for a nighttime stroll. It seems Alec is not the only one to be sleepless these days. Aaron is walkning, not flying, down an empty street, lined by bushes and trees. He had been this way many times before, and never has he encountered a car. An occasional coyote perhaps, but never any other people, in cars or not. After all, most people were asleep at home at this time on Thursday. Well, perhaps not asleep, all of them, but at least home. Aaron is recounting the battle that had occured two days earlier with Chris. Aaron had been hurt, as had the others, but he was healing quicker than them, thanks in part to his numerous potions which he always tested and re-tested. He looked down the road to where it began bending and heading west. At that bend in the road was where he usually turned around and headed back, though each time, he always felt (or thought he felt) something in his mind telling him to go further down the road, go further and seek out whatever may lie there. Aaron reached the bend in due time, and stopped his walking. He gazed down the road as it began winding it's way west toward the great Pacific, and also downhill. It was not a steep grade, but it was definitely downhill. Aaron sighed and turned around, heading back home. Tomorrow was Friday, which meant the weekend was very near. For Aaron, it could not come soon enough. Then he could really rest, sleep in until past noon, wake up, eat something, and then sleep again. Oh, what a luxury that would be. What a luxury... Aaron heard a small rusling in the bushes on the other side of the street. He stopped where he was and looked towards it curiously. An image of Alec standing on a street, telling them that he had been attacked by a werewolf popped into his head momentarily, but he dismissed it. After all, it wasn't much of a full moon anymore. It was more of a half moon, and on it's way to no moon. There was no more movement from the bush, so he told the bush to move a few feet back. It did, ripping it's roots out of the ground with small popping noises, and as it began scuttling backwards, a frightened coyote scurried out and bolted away down the street to the west, making absolutely no noise as it went. Above, the moon dipped back behind another cloud. Aaron smiled a little, and continued on his way. Pretty soon, he heard another rustling in the bushes across the street. He laughed softly, and told the bush to do the same as the other. It did, and where it moved from there was a large shadow, resembling a big person hunched over in a running stance. The shadow stood up, and the moon shone free once again. Aaron gasped and stumbled backwards quickly, almost falling. There, not ten yards in front of him, was a werewolf. Aaron glanced up at the moon, again registering the fact that it was only have visible. Then how could a werewolf be in werewolf form if the moon was only half there? He decided for a moment that it was a hoax. A complete and utter hoax. Aaron didn't much believe that werewolves existed anyway. He suddenly decided that Alec had lied to them that one day, and now he was here in a werewolf suit, trying to scare Aaron. He relaxed and called out to the creature, "Hey Alec! Nice try, but I think you missed a couple details!" The werewolf looked confused for a moment, as if understood Aaron's words, but only somewhat. Then, it snarled at Aaron and began advancing. All doubts in Aaron's mind suddenly evaporated. There was no way Alec could snarl like that, he wasn't nearly that tall, and there is no way he could walk like that. This creature was all predator, no fakes. When it moved, you could tell it was built for hunting down it's prey and tearing it to pieces. Aaron jumped into the air and moved backward. He put about five lateral yards between him and the beast, as well as ten vertical feet. Aaron judged that from where he was, the thing couldn't touch him. And now, to get rid of it... Aaron spoke, in his unusual way, to a tree behind the werewolf. It ripped itself out of the ground, scuttled a few feet forward, and came crashing down at the werewolf, who narrowly dodged it. The creature looked at the tree for a moment, sniffed the air, and then looked at Aaron. Aaron knew that the werewolf had figured out what happened. The beast moved out into the middle of the road, where there were no plants by it at all, and then it turned to Aaron again. Aaron was getting slightly nervous at this point. If took off and went home, would the beast be able to follow him? He knew that it would. And if he did that, then wouldn't his parents and his brother be in danger? He knew they would. That meant there was only one option: to fight. Aaron raised his hands high above his head, and then swung them down. A great bolt of water, accompanied by a strong gust of wind, blew itself at the werewolf below him. His enemy rolled to the side away from the attack, but was still hit on the side. The werewolf shook off the blow, and then looked up at his enemy. He crossed the road and was in front of Aaron in a few short strides, and leapt into the air with uncanny agility. The werewolf's savage claws ripped into Aaron's right arm, tearing skin down to the bone, and leaving a long trail of blood to splatter itself on the ground. Aaron gritted his teeth, flew up higher, and administered what little healing magic his knew to his arm. He created a bubble around the wound and pressurized it so that no blood would come out of the wound. It was a stalling tactic for the bleeding, but it was working. He raised his left hand and shot another blast of water at the beast. It was hit hard and driven back into the ground. Aaron seized the oppurtunity, and, drawing his machete, swooped down and swung at his opponent. The machete struck hard and true, and the werewolf's blood splattered along the road, accompaning Aaron's. Aaron took his advantage and swung again and again at the beast, shattering bones and tearing out lumps of fur and skin and muscle. It wasn;t long before the heart of the beast stopped beating, and the blood dripping from it slowed to a trickle. Aaron was breathing heavily, and the pain in his arm was a constant reminder that he neeeded help quickly. He took off into the air and headed home. He got there quickly, and, oncei nside his room, he locked every door and window that he could reach. He decided in his mind that if there was more than one werewolf, he would have known already. But still, he felt safer with everything locked up. It took a while to fall asleep, but he eventually did. Unfortunately, his sleep didn't last long. Outside in the hallway, another werewolf, this one much like the other that had just attacked Aaron, had it's ear pressed to the door, listening intently. After several minutes, Aaron's breathing became slower and more rhythmic, and the hunter knew his soon-to-be victim was asleep. Silently and slowly, the knob of his door turned, and the werewolf entered. He saw instantly everything in the room. Aaron, asleep in his bed. The wond on Aaron's arm. The strange bubble that surrounded the wound. The blood on the boy, of which there was a lot. The werewolf's senses were so keen, he could both smell and see that there was blood from two different things on the boy, and the beast immediately knew the story of what had happened. As it entered, it also took note of every door, every window, every dark corner, everything. Anything that could be used as a weapon, anything that could be a shield or an escape route or a hiding place. The hunter was ready.
***
11:40 PM
Alec lay in bed, staring at the ceiling, thinking of too many things at the same time. The werewolf that had just attacked him was as strong as it was relentless, but much as the last one he fought, Alec was the victor. Nevertheless, Alec was worried. The moon was not full in the sky, so why was there a werewolf lurking about? Perhaps there was more than one? Was this one under orders from the same as the last? Who was sending these things? Why him? Alec stood up out of bed and stared out the window. What if there was another one out there right now, looking in at him, waiting for him to fall asleep? Alec shook his head. No, that was impossible. Or was it...? There was a soft knock at the door, and Alec jumped about ten feet into the air. He spun quickly, and projected his mind outward, seeing whatever the person or (werewolf) thing out there was thinking. He could see instantly that it was scared. And... injured? Alec knew that whatever was out there meant him no harm, and he was obliged to see what it wanted. Nevertheless, he drew his sword and opened the door telekenetically. Aaron stepped in, saw Alec, and sighed in relief. Alec put away his sword and walked over to Aaron, noticing the wound on his right arm, as well as the ragged gash across his chest. He surveyed his freind for a moment and then spoke. "What happened?" He asked, feeling as though he already knew. Aaron had been attacked. But by what? Was it (a werewolf) Chris or one of his minions? "I was attacked." Aaron said quietly. "By a werewolf." Aaron didn't need to say anymore. Alec could see what had happened perfectly in Aaron's mind. The whole thing. The first werewolf, and the second. "I was attacked, too." Alec said, matching Aaron's quiet voice. "By a werewolf." Aaron didn't have to ask the question that was on his mind. "I have no idea what the f**k is going on," Alec said. "But I intend to find out. Werewolves at a half moon? What is Chris thinking?" Alec didn't know for a fact that it was Chris that had sent them, but it was the only thing that he could think of. Who else wanted them dead? "Do you think the others were attacked?" Aaron asked. His voice was beginning to shake, and Alec was not suprised. "I wouldn't doubt it. I hope they fare as well as we have." Alec didn't think Aaron weathered the attacks as he could have, but at least he was alive. Alec was worrying most about Garrett. He didn't think the poor guy would stand half a chance against a werewolf... "I keep hoping this is all a dream," Aaron whispers, "or all a nightmare. I hope that I'll wake up in the morning and find out this really didn't happen." "It could be worse." Alec offered, similtaneously wondering whether it really could. He really didn't know what else to say. He had his theories about this whole thing, but he wasn't sure about any of them. They just didn't add up. If it was Chris, then why would he be using werewolves? And why were the PNs being attacked anyway? What did they do? Was it just the fact that they existed? Perhaps someone was afraid of them, afraid they might get in the way of some evil plans... And also, how come there were werewolves roaming when the moon was only half full? Perhaps these weren't really werewolves, but something else, something more sinister. The one that had attacked Alec earlier during the full moon must have been. "Should we go find the others, see if they're okay?" Aaron asked, breaking Alec's train of thought. "I don't know." Alec replied. And he didn't. Things just weren't clicking. What if Chris had somehow found a way to create werewolves that turned evil at night, no matter what shape the moon was in? But how would he do that? It would probably have to be some kind of... potion? He glanced at Aaron, who was looking out the window, fear still shining in his eyes. Alec began to wonder. What if Aaron was really on Chris' side, helping him out, providing him with the things he needed to overturn the PNs? No, that couldn't be. Alec found no trace a malice or hatred toward himself in Aaron's mind, and no trace of memories with Chris, handing over potions and plans and other things to help him... No. Aaron was clean. Aaron was on their side. But what if one of the others...? No. Every one of the PNs were loyal to Alec, he knew that. But what if one of them was a better liar than Alec had known...? No. No no no. That would be impossible. Think logically here, Alec. Get a grip. Chris must have some outside help, there was no doubt. But wait... what if it wasn't Chris at all? What if it was some other entity entirely? Now that would make more sense. Much more... "Aaron," Alec said, looking at him, "Do you think perhaps all of this was caused by Chris? Or some other group?" "I don't know." Aaron replied shortly. "I don't know." "Wait..." A though had suddenly occured to Alec. "Aren't vampires and werewolves enemies?" "I believe so..." Aaron looked up at Alec. Ha dhe figured it all out? Aaron didn't know. "Then it can't be Chris, can it?" Alec was no longer really talking to Aaron, but rather just thinking out loud. "And if it's not him, then maybe he is under attack, too...? Would that be possible?" He looked out the window in the semi-dark, moon-lighted landscape. It seemed that now, anything was possible. Anything...
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Post by Mr. Penguin on Dec 12, 2006 0:40:08 GMT -5
... and chapter eight.
Chapter Eight: Bleed Black
8:43 PM Thursday Near Fallbrook, CA
Chris stood at the stone table that a few of his minions had created and brought in. Chris knew he needed some place to lay his plans and discuss things with his upper-ranking minions, and a few of the stronger zombie-types had gone out one night, found a rock that looked like it could work, and brought it inside to the main room. They spent the next few days hitting it with other rocks to smooth it out and make it look more like a real table. Now Chris just needed a few chairs, and things would be considerably better. Other than the table, a lot of other changes had been made to the cave and outside of it. He had some of his minions rig up a system he designed, which allowed him to roll a large boulder in front of the cave entrance when he pleased, effectively blocking out any light or other annoying things that may wish to enter. He ha skeptic about doing this at first, but after the werewolf attack a few days earlier, he knew having the cave wide open wasn't going to work... Chris was now at his table with some of his minions who he appointed to be his cabinet sort of group. They were the smartest minions he had created, and he had specifically gone out to find souls of those who were smart enough. He was no longer limiting himself to Fallbrook, no sir. He would sometimes go as far as another state to find what he was looking for. Distances didn't matter. He could fly as fast as he wanted, and nothing could stop him. He was just wondering how long it would be until the news began picking up word of a string of mysterious murders originating from a small town named Fallbrook in southern California... He dragged his mind back to what he was doing. It seemed that after the werewolf attack, he couldn't keep his mind on one thing for that long. Before he could get lost in thought again, he spoke, "As you know, the werewolf attack was the first of it's kind, and I can say that I was reasonablly impressed at the way all the guards handled themselves..."
(The sun was just setting and the sky out side was turning a deep blood red, purple, and gray in the oncoming dusk. The entrance to Chris' cave was bathed in shadow, as it faced west, toward the sea. The new cheif of guard stood stock still, hiding in the shadows inside the cave and blending in perfectly. He thought he heard sounds outside, but he decided they were just his imagination. This prompted him to wonder whether he really had an imagination. He was a skeleton, after all. Weren't skeletons supposed to be slow and stupid, with no mind whatsoever? Perhaps he was special. A superskeleton. He was happy thinking that thought, but that happiness faded when something blew past him into the cave at an incredible speed. The cheif of guard had only a momentary glimpse of fur, teeth, and a large dark glinting eye. The cheif of guard turned and shouted into the cave one word. "Intruder!" Inside the cave there was a scrambling of movement and weapons being drawn. There was a pause, a loud snarl, and then the sounds of battle. The cheif of guard guessed that the whole thing went on for about five minutes, the terrible sounds of bones breakking, blood splattering, and cries of pain. The cheif of guard witnessed Chris flying up to the top of the cave sometime during the battle, a large gash across his right cheek. The blood that dripped from the wound was as black as night. In the end, however, the werewolf was slain and disposed of outside.)
"... even though we lost a few. How many was that?" He asked his cheif of guard, who was in charge of remembering things like that. "Three, sir." The cheif of guard replied in his cold stolid, tone. He may have an imagination to a small extent, but he had no vocal range other than cold and stolid. "I see. And if this were to happen again, how many would we lose?" "None, sir." The cheif of guard replied. Chris was pleased at one thing more than many others; his minions were finally starting to call him "sir." It made him content. "And why?" Chris knew that the cheif of guard knew the answer, but he was just making sure. "Because now we know what is effective against this foe. And another one will not get in here anyway, since we have the gate." All of Chris' minions now referred to the boulder as the gate. The boulder isn't there, then the gate is open. The boulder is there, then the gate is closed. Chris had decided at a much earlier time that his minions had no imagination whatsoever, and were dumber than crap, so he was very suprised when they began calling it "the gate." He expected something much simpler. Like "the rock," for example. Or "the big rock." Getting pretty complicated here now, eh? "Good." Chris smiled. "Now, do any of you have any ideas as to where the werewolf might have come from?" He may have thought his minions had no brains before, but his ideas were changing. He watched them as they trained, and when they were in battle a few days earlier, and he noticed that they learned suprisingly quickly. Was it now unreasonable to think that they might have some imagination? Or some kind of logic-sense? "It could have been the Potato Ninjas." That was another one of Chris' minions speaking. It was a smallish zombie-type, and it spoke in a slightly highed voice than the cheif if guard, but still with the same tone. Cold. Stolid. "Well, that's a possibility," Chris said, "But where in the hell would they find a werewolf willing to help them? Werewolves don't listen to people or take orders, even when they're in human form." This was Chris' opinion. Seeing the savagery of the beast when they fought and killed it a few days earlier, he decided instantly that it was completely incapable of controlling itself, no matter what form it was in. He was still new to vampirism, but he knew that werewolves were the mortal enemies of vampires, just as the PNs were the mortal enemies of Chris and his minions. "Someone must have sent it." This was another one of Chris' minions, this one a large and powerful skeleton. Chris had appointed this one to be in charge of all project related to the cave, such as the boulder moving and table creation. "What makes you think that?" The cheif of guard asked. Chris knew that no matter what, the cheif of guard would follow his orders and agree with whatever he said. Even if Chris ordered his cheif of guard to destroy himself on the spot, he knew the cheif of guard would do it. "Well, it seems a mightly big coincidence that a werewolf would happen upon this cave, and know that a vampire would be in here." The leader of construction (who Chris had named "Number Four" in his mind), said, turning his head toward the cheif of guard. There was no change in tone, but Chris could tell that something in Number Four had changed, indicating his mood. Chris found it fascinating how the skeltons and zombie-types could show you their emotion without even changing their tone. And they couldn't change their tone anyway. "Werewolves have strong senses," the last of Chris' minions said, "He could have sniffed out this cave from afar and come to investigate." This was another skelton, this one also slightly larger than normal. Chris had dubbed him to be in charge of all plans and schemes and whatnot, along with the joyful name of "Number Three." So far, they didn't have any, but Chris hoped to create some soon. "Yes, but what about his timing? Just after Chris arrived?" Number Four didn't seem to be yeilding in his ascertations. Chris was glad. It kept the conversation moving, and he knew intuitivelly that if you talked or thought about something long enough, you would eventually find the answer. It was only a matter of time. "Perhaps he could smell Chris' scent on the walls, but he could tell that Chris hadn't arrived yet. Perhaps he was just waiting," Chris' cheif of guard (who, by the way, was known in Chris' mind as "Number Two") said. "And what are the chances of that?" Number four didn't want to change his mind. That was quite apparent at the moment. "I'd say very high." Number Two said. "Well, this is what I think." Number Four announced. "I think that was a werewolf under a contract from a higher power, an enemy of vampires." He looked at Chris. "What do you think, sir?" Chris thought for a moment. "I think anything is possible. He could have been sent, he could have been rouge. I don't think that anything is out of the question. We must be open-minded to this problem. If there is to be a course of action, we must all decide on it and agree that it is a good plan." Number Two nodded. "I agree." Number Three nodded as well. "As do I." They both looked at Number Four. He sighed, paused, and then said "I agree as well. We must be open-minded." Chris had a momentary vision of someone's head being split open and the brains dripping out (open-minded indeed, hee hee) and then he realized he needed to hunt. He had negelected to do so the night before, for fear of a werewolf that may attack him (he was afraid, though he hated to admit it), and the fact that his cheek was still healing. Tonight, though, he was ready. "Well, men," he said, stretching, "I think it is time I hunt. I will be back soon." He walked to the gate, waited as Number Four opened it, and then stepped outside into the misty twilight. He grinned, stretched his arms, and took off.
***
The mist was heavy in the air, but Chris flew above it and could see the moon, now entering the final strecth of it's shrinking, looked just past half empty. He closed his eyes and stretched his mind out, looking, seeking, searching. He found nothing that seemed to be a promising victim, but he always had a backup plan... He headed out westward, heading over the outskirts of town, going over the main buisness area, then he turned and headed slightly south. Soon enough, he was above the graveyard where he usually found some of his corpses, and next to it, low-grade housing. The mist was not evident here. It was in these kinds of areas that mysterious deaths during the night are forgotten quickest. If he went to the richer areas of town, deaths were much more noticable. But here, hehehe... He hovered and watched the people below him milling about. It wasn't late at night, so Chris figured that he either had two choices: wait for several hours, or see what he could do. He elected the latter, and swooped down lower. He landed in a dark corner and looked around. There was nothing to be seen in this dark recess between two houses, but beyond it there were people. But how to get one of them to come to him? He couldn't just go out, drag one away, and drink. He needed a plan... But before he could start to think of one, one of the people turned from the group and walked into the house on Chris' left. "Perfect." Chris said quietly. He moved around the back of the house, looking for a door. He finally found one and walked into what seemed to be the laundry room. There were dirty clothes covering the floor and staacked up in heaps here and there. Chris found it quite disgusting. How could someone live in a place like this? He crept quietly through that room and into a short hallway that he was at the midpoint of. Off to the left down the hall, he could see what he assumed to be the living room, which had a door leading to the outside. He could see the group of people he noticed earlier through the door. To his right, there was a closed door, and behind it, he could here someone moving things around, seemingly looking for something. At least he hoped that's what was going on. Quickly and silently, he darted into the hall and flipped the switch for the lights. They went off obidiently and Chris was bathed in darkness. His eyes adjusted quickly, and he could see as well, if not better, than with the lights on. He crept over to the door, slowly turned the knob, and opened it. Inside, he saw somebody moving things about, apparently searching for some lost item. Chris figured that in a place like this, things got lost and stayed lost for a very long time. He hovered an inch from the ground and moved forward toward the back of the person, who was now scratching his head, seemingly wondering where that darn thing was. Chris paused, and then crossed the final three feet in an instant, and needless to say, things were over quickly.
***
Chris was in the air again, his stomach full of rich, nourishing blood. It had been an easy kill, and he felt ready to do anything again. He flew back over town and headed toward his cave home. Thinking of the cave reminded him that he should probably head to his house after he gives the final orders for the night to his minions. In a fit of adventerousness, he landed on a hill near his cave and decided to walk the rest of the way. He hadn't walked a long distance for a long time, and for some reason, he wanted to now. He trotted along the rocky ground, looking about him as he did so. Everything seemed to be at peace in the misty darkness, though his vision was limited to ten yards or so. He innately knew the direction of his cave, so he was not afraid of getting lost. But what he was afraid of (werewolf) was not (ripping, tearing claws) evident (dark eyes filled with primordial intelligence) at the time. For which he was glad. If there was a werewolf about, things would be bad, yes sir, bad indeed. Chris was now unconsciously jogging faster, almost breaking into a full-on run. He continued this way for a minute or two, and then he noticed something in the mist to his right, moving along with him, keeping pace. He turned his head to look, but there was nothing there. "Just my imagination," he told himself, "just my imagination." He looked forward and noticed he was really running now. He forced himself to slow down to the jog he had started with. He felt an awful sense of apprehension doing so, but he knew it was necessary. After all, there was nothing nearby, was there? As he made his way down the hill, the fog got thicker and thicker. Pretty soon, his vision was limited to only about ten feet. The sense of apprehension was now filling his stomach with knots, and causing him to look all about nervously, all the while saying to himself the same three words, over and over. "There's nothing there. There's nothing there." Over and over as he ran, no longer a jog, now a run, up the hill toward his cave. Soon he would be inside, soon he would be safe. Soon, he wouldn't need to worry about Werewolf! It was right in front of him! Chris stopped running abruptly, lost his balance, and tumbled over backward, rolling down the hill. He struggled to get up, but he couldn't stop his fall. In moments, he was back at the small valley between the two hills, stuck in a very annoying bush. He fought his way free, and looked around. The fog was once again so thick he could hardly see. He turned around quickly, looking. He saw nothing. Perhaps that hadn't been a werewolf in front of him. Perhaps it was just one of his minions out patrolling the cave entrance (his mind conviniently forgot that he never sent minions outside to patrol) or maybe it was just his imagination. Yes, that had to be it. He just imagined it. He laughed at his own paranoia, and started jogging uphill again. He made it perhaps a third of the way, and then he heard a sound to his right. Chris jumped into the air and moved backwards, straight into the open arms of a werewolf, the dust still on it's hands from the rock it threw. Chris screamed, a high-pitched, fearful scream, and punched the beast in the face, tearing himself away from it's (ripping, tearing claws) grasp. Chris stumbled backward, almost fell, and watched as the werewolf dissapeared into the mist. This could not be his imagination. He could feel it's (hot breath, reeking of blood and hatred) and see it's horrible (dark eyes filled with primordial intelligence) and he knew this was not his imagination. He realized that he suddenly playing a very grim game of "Cat and Mouse." And Chris knew he wasn't the feline. Chris hovered into the air and began making his way up the hill again, looking around as best he could. He saw nothing, and was glad. Maybe he could make back into the cave in time to... Chris was suddenly thrown to the ground and felt the weight of a heavy beast on top of him. Chris looked up and into the eyes of the werewolf, shining with greed and hunger. Like Chris, it was a hunter. And it needed to eat, same as him. Chris drew his dagger which he kept on him at all times and slashed at the creatures left eye. Blood splattered in Chris' face, and the monster drew back, howling. Now limited to one working eye, the beast charged Chris, swinging it's giant paws, each equipped with wicked, five-inch long claws. Chris dodged the attack, rolled, and threw his dagger at the creatures side. The knife went clanging off of a rock a few feet away from the werewolf, and the creature turned toward the sound and pounced. Chris suddenly realized that getting his opponents eye had seriously damaged it's sense of direction. Chris magicked his scythe out of the air and, leaping into the air, brought it down at his opponents unprotected back. The scythe cut in an inch or so, spurting blood from the wound on the animals back. The werewolf turned and swung a paw at Chris, missing by a foot. Chris charged forward again, this time swinging his foot out at the beast. He managed to kick the animal in the shins, but it did not go down like he had planned. Now with it's prey close enough, the werewolf snapped it jaws at Chris, tearing off a bit of meat from his left arm. The beast spit the piece of Chris out and lunged again, but Chris swung his scythe up, screaming in fury and pain, jamming the razor-sharp point into the creatures chest. Chris felt grim satisfaction as he saw the point of the blade come ripping out the back of the beast an inch or two, and drew the scythe back out, ready to swing again, when a massive paw hit him in the side of the head, sending him sprawiling on the ground, and Chris rolled back to the little valley again, this time, though, not into a bush. Chris stood up on shaky legs, gripping his blood-soaked scythe in his hands. He looked around, expecting to see the creature come charging at him. He waited a minute or two, turning all directions, and then tried to life off into the air. Another massive paw hit his leg as he was rising, spinning him in the air and knocking him to the ground. Chris hit hard, sending dust up from where he landed, and began swinging his scythe wildly. He missed a few times, and then felt his scythe dig deep into something soft and fleshy. He heard a howl of pain and quickly jumped to his feet, onyl to fall over again. This monster had broken his leg, and the pain shot up through him like a bolt of fire, screaming as it went. Chris looked toward where he hit the fleshy thing, and saw the werewolf stumbling around, it's hands at it's throat. Blood was seeping out from between it's fingers as it cried out, again and again. Chris watched in silence as a black broadsword swung down from the mist and decapitated the creature. It's severed head rolled to the ground, it's face still contorted in pain and anger, and the body slumped over like a bag of flour. In front of Chris, five of his cloaked minions appeared and rushed up to him. Without a word, they picked him up, clothes, body, and hair soaked deeply by his strange black blood, and carried him away up the hill. As they went, Chris began seeing dark spots swimming in front of him, and then, quite suddenly, the whole world went dark.
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Post by Mr. Penguin on Dec 12, 2006 0:41:52 GMT -5
... and even number nine! w00t for me! (Yes, I've been a busy little boy over the last few days)
Chapter Nine: Coalition
1:40 PM Monday Fallbrook, CA
Patrick walked out of class, wondering where Chris had gone off to. He hadn't been to school since Thursday, and Patrick was worrying that he was planning something. Perhaps this was part of his plan. Disappear from school for a long time so the PNs think he's gone, and then pop out of nowhere when their collective guard is down and destroy them. That wouldn't be very fun, now, would it? Patrick was passing a tree when he heard a voice. "Patrick." He looked around, wondering who was calling him. He didn't see anyone. "Over here, Patrick." Patrick turned his head and looked toaward the tree and the dark shape in the shadows under it. "Who are you?" He asked. "Chris." The shape replied. "I need you to come here. I need to talk to you." Patrick laughed. "You think I am going to fall for that? Why don't you come here and talk to me?" "I wouldn't mind doing that, but I'm sure that a lot of people would overhear. And we don't want that, do we?" Patrick looked around at all the people walking by. They hardly spared Patrick (who must have looked like he was talking to a tree to them) a second glance. Patrick gingerly took a step forward, off the concrete sidewalk and onto the leaves collected under the tree. They amde dry popping noises as the crumbled under his feet. "Very good." Chris said. "Now, come the rest of the way." Patrick put on hand inside his jacket, grabbing the six inch knife he had hidden there and held onto it. He walked into the shadows in front of Chris. "I'm here." he announced. "Now what do you want?" Chris stood up straighter. He still only looked like a shadow to Patrick. "I want to know where you got those werewolves from." Patrick raised an eyebrow. "Werewolves?" "Don't play stupid, Patrick. There's no one else around here that wants me dead. Where did you get them?" Chris' voice was hardly more than a growl. To say that he was agitated would be an understatement. "We don't have any werewolves." Patrick replied. "We are harboring nothing. We were attacked by them. Is that what you mean?" Chris paused. "You were attacked, too?" His voice was losing it's edge. "Yes. I assume that means you were, as well." Patrick was suddenly very suspicious, but he took his hand off his knife, and dropped it to his side. Perhaps it had been Chris who sent them against the PNs. Perhaps now he was just checking to see how much damage they did. As Alec had told them Friday, anything was possible. "I was indeed. I was very injured." Chris sighed audibly. "But I don't believe that you were attacked. You have any proof?" In response, Patrick pulled back his sleeves. His arms were covered with deep, ragged gashes that could have only been made by a very large animal with very large claws. "I see." Chris said. "So perhaps we are in the same boat here, no? What about your freinds? Were they attacked as well?" "What's it to you?" Patrick said defensively. The thought that perhaps Chris was checking on the damage returned to his mind. "Because if we are in the same boat, then perhaps we need to work together." Chris said quietly. It took all his strength to suggest such a thing. He could easily imagine standing next to all the PNs, trying to figure out where the werewolves were all coming from, when they would suddenly attack him. He wouldn't put it past them. Patrick snorted. "Hardly. I'm not stupid, Chris. I remember what happened the last time you said you wanted to help us." Chris sighed. "We're helping each other, here. My minions and I plus you Potato Ninjas, hell, we could take on d**n near anything." Patrick frowned. "How can I trust you? How do I know you're not just crapting me?" By this time, Patrick's eyes had adjusted to the dim light under the tree. Behind him, people passing by were thinning out, and the bell for the next class would likely ring soon. "Is there any light shining on me?" Chris asked abruptly. "No..." Patrick began, but stopped when Chris threw back his hood. Chris' face was covered in scars, and his skin seemed paler than usual. He looked haggard and unhealthy. His eyes, normally blood red, were incredibly darked, almost black. He was missing a few patches of hair on his head, and a long jagged gash split his left cheek from ear to chin. "Do you see me? Do you see what these werewolves have done to me?" Chris asked. His voice was only a whisper now. "My master, Tancred, told me that I don't have long to live unless I find these werewolves and kill them all. And not only that, but he tells me that I must make a potion from their blood in order to rid my body of the poisons they have riddled my body with." He looked into Patrick's eyes. "I don't want to die. Vampires are immortal, but that doesn't mean we can't die from wounds. I need your help, Patrick. You and your freinds." Patrick had made up his mind instantly upon seeing Chris' face. There was no way he was crapting them. But should they help him? What if they just killed him? Wouldn't that be just as good? They could find the origin of these werewolves themselves and take them all down. "You need help, too, you know." Chris said. "You have wounds from these monsters, which means you have been infected by their poison, too. It doesn't work as fast inside your system as it does in mine, but it's there, and if you leave it untreated, you will die. Or worse... you yourself could become cursed. Cursed to be a werewolf yourself and roam the earth until the end of your life. Each day, you are filled with guilt and pain and fear. You will go insane in only a few days after the transformation. You will be truly and irreversably cursed." Patrick looked in Chris' unhealthy eyes. He was telling the truth. "My master, Tancred, knows how to make the potion to fix all this. If you help me, I'll help you. I'll teach you and your freinds how to make it. You will be cured." He paused. "What do you say?" The bell rang, but Patrick paid no attention. "I will have to discuss it with the others. Be here tomorrow at this time, and we will all be here to discuss things. Deal?" Chris nodded. "We have a deal." Patrick turned and left without another word. Chris slumped against the fence, breathing heavily. What if the PNs betrayed him? What if they came here tomorrow and just killed him? He put his hood back on and shook his head. There was no other way. He needed their help, and they needed his. There was no other choice.
***
1:45 PM, Tuesday
Chris was once against slumped against the fence. He watched his fellow students walking by, wishing vainly that he could be like them again. Normal, carefree, and far away from werewolves and vampires and undead minions and terrible things that prowled the night and killed innocent people in their beds. And the worst thing was that he was one of the terrible things that prowled the night and killed innocents citizens in their beds. He felt no mercy or regret when he was doing it, but often he would feel regretful and guilty afterwards. What had Tancred made him into? A monster. That's what. He was hardly much better than the werewolves. He looked up at toward the sidewalk again and instead saw the six Potato Ninjas standing there. He straightened up and greeted them. "I see you've come. That is good. I assume Patrick told you why I want to talk to you?" "Yes." Ed replied shortly. The other PNs had nominated him to be their spokesperson. "And what do you have to say about my proposition?" "We have decided to..." Ed paused and took a deep breath before continuing. "We have decided to accept. But on one condition. If you betray us or leave us for dead or don't help out or anything else like that, then we will leave you to die of your affliction." Ed paused again. "Do we have an agreement?" Chris stuck out his hand. "I believe we do." Ed shook his hand. "Good." Chris said. "Now, what is the plan of action?" "First things first..." Alec said, taking back his role as leader and spokesperson now that negotions were over, "I need to see your face to know that you are telling the truth." Chris obligingly took off his hood. Alec surveyed his mutilated face for a moment and then spoke. "Good. Put your hood back on." Chris did. "Now, is there another place other than this where we can discuss these things?" Chris' mind first went to his cave, but then he was skeptical. What if he took them there and they attacked him? No, they wouldn't do that. If they wanted to kill him they would do it right here and now. But if they were enemies again afterwards, they would know about the interior of his cave... "We will go to my cave." Chris said. He trusted them, and they sure as hell better trust him. "I will tell my minions to treat you like honored guests. Which you are." He paused. "Do not worry, though. Many of them were at the fight, and will remember you, but my minions are fiercly loyal. They would not attack you unless I ordered them to do so, which I won't. Remember, if you guys die, then I die." There was a moment's pause, and then Alec spoke. "Fine. But just remember our agreement." Chris nodded. "I remember it well. Just remember that if you guys attack me at my cave, I am surrounded by my minions. If you attack me, they will not hesitate to rip you limb from limb." "We will remember." Zack said. It was the frist time he had spoken to Chris for a very long time. In fact, he doesn't remember ever saying anything to Chris. "Good." Chris said. "Let's go, then."
***
The cheif of guard sat on one of the newly made stone chairs at the table, waiting for Chris' return. He said he was probably bringing guest, and the cheif of guard assumed he meant corpses of some sort. Or perhaps target practice dummies for them. Living target practice dummies. Oh, that would be good. The cheif of guard could imagine his sword diving into the living flesh of a human, feeling the thumping of the heart slowing, then ceasing as the victims face contorted in pain and it screamed for help. Oh, that would be good indeed... The guard he had assigned to watch the gate walked up to him. "They have arrived." The cheif of guard stood up, saw Chris, and then saw the Potato Ninjas flanking him on both sides. The cheif of guards hand went instantly to his sword, but Chris put his hand up. "Stand down, Number Two. They are here to help." The cheif of guard did so immediately, unquestioningly. He remained standing, his arms hanging at his sides. Chris' bodyguards appeared on either side of the PNs, turned, and headed to opposite ends of the room. All of the Potato Ninjas, including Alec, hadn't known they were even there, and flinched terribly. Chris noticed this and grinned. "My bodyguards and pretty d**n good at disguise now, aren't they?" He then gestured toward the table. "Have a seat. There are enough chairs for all of you." And there were. The PNs sat on the sides of the table, with Alec at the end seat, facing Chris where he sat far down the table. Chris was quickly joined by his top three cohorts, Numbers Two, Three, and Four (Chris himself was Number One, of course), and they all sat in silence for a moment, until Chris spoke. "Potato Ninjas, meet my personal council. Personal council, Potato Ninjas." They all exchanged breif nods and muttered greetings. There was a certain amount of tension in the air, and that was not a suprise. Having your mortal enemies come into your headquarters and sit at the same table as all of your important people must make you feel rather edgy. But Chris reminded himself that these were not his mortal enemies, not at the moment. At the moment, the enemies were the werewolves. "Well, Number Three, have you any plans on how to deal with the problem of the werewolves?" Chris asked, trying to break the heavy tension as well as start the conversation. "I have one plan which I think will work, as long as everything goes correctly." Number Three said. "Of course, all palns would work if they went perfectly." Chris noted that for a "mindless" undead minion, this was a very profound statement. "Go on." Chris said with a nod. "Well, it is quite simple really. What we do is capture a werewolf, wait until he changes back to human form, and ask him where he is from, who he is under orders from, and the such. We will use any means necessary to get this information." "So you mean interrogate him?" Chris inquired. "If that is what I have described, then yes, we will interrogate him." Number Three replied. 'Another word added to their already limited vocabulary,' Chris thought rather smugly. 'At least they aren't completely retarded.' "How do you propose we capture this werewolf, umm... Number Three?" Alec was rather amused by this highly generic name. It made him think that they were at a military conference discussing how to take down a dangerous enemy. Alec suddenly realized that in a sense, that was exactly what they were doing. Number Three's head swung and looked at Alec. It pause a moment before replying. "I am not sure." It confessed. 'Well,' Chris thought, 'You can't expect them to be able to think of everything.' "Well, do you have a suggestion of any sort?" Alec asked. He was rather amused by the fact that not only was he talking to one of Chris' personal advisors, but he was talking to a living (if that was the word) skeleton. There was a pause again. "No." Number Three said in it's unyeilding voice. "Perhaps," Chris said, "we could use a bit of bait?" Number Three's head swung back to look at Chris, but it said nothing. "You mean like a hunk of meat that we just toss outside the rock here and wait for the beats to come?" Alec asked. Number Three's head swung back to look at him again. Alec was rather unnerved by the cold, blank stare that those invisible eyes offered. And the head swinging was becoming rather irritating, too. "In a sense, yes." Chris said. Number Three's head swung back, and Alec had to restrain himself from shouting at it. "But I was thinking of more of a... living piece of bait...?" "No." Alec replied instantly. Number Three's head swung back toward him again, and Alec was now having to restrain the urge of getting up and basing the stupid minions head in. "I am not putting one of my men at risk." "I'll do it." Zack spoke up suddenly. Everyone turned to look at him, most of them with incredulous looks on their faces. "You?" Alec asked, slightly breathless. "Yes. Me." Zack replied. I took down the werewolves that attacked me with hardly any problems. Why would this one be any different?" "Let me remind you," Chris said from the other end of the table (Number Three's head doing it's thing), "That you are not killing it. You are just attracting it." "I know." Zack said. He now noticed Number Three's head going back in forth in it's annoying little arc. Out of the corner of his eye he saw Alec looking like he wanted to shoot something, and a connection was formed. Zack barely stifled a laugh. "I know." He said again. "But I'm just saying, I'm not afraid. If anything goes wrong, I can handle myself." Alec could see in Zack's mind that he indeed was not afraid, and Alec was slightly worried. That sort of confidence could prove fatal one day. If you do not respect your enemy, and fear it to a certain extent, then it is easy to underestimate it. "Very well," Chris said, (d**n that Number Three. He might just lose that swinging head of his one day.) "If you wish to be our bait, then it is your decision. Are there any objections?" Alec had every intention of standing up, declaring that he would do it, and keeping Zack safe, but he decided against it. Number Three looked at every person, his head doing that annoying little bob and weave every time he moved it, and Alec had to restrain himself from drawing his sword and chopping the d**n thing off. He decided that working (or God forbid, living) with this d**n abomination must be a great lesson in patience and self-restarint. He was starting to notice that all the others seated at the table were thinking pretty much the same thing. Now it was his turn to stifle the laughter. "Good." Chris smiled. "It's settled then. Zack, you will be out bait. But now, we have other things to discuss about this. One, how will we actually catch it, and two, how will we hold it?" Chris looked around the table, finally starting to feel more comfortable about having his enemies in here. Part of him didn't want to admit it, part of him wanted to embrace it, and part of him didn't care, but he actually felt safer and more comfortable with the Potato Ninjas here. He knew they were powerful, and with their verbal agreement, he knew they would defend him if he were to be attacked by anything. "My idea is just to sort of jump on the beast and hold it down." Number Three said to the congregation. "And then...?" Alec said, more than a little irritated with this stupid undead piece of crap that had about as much imagination as a piece of pocket lint. "Pardon?" Number Three said, he head swinging over to look at Alec, who had to visible restrain himself from jumping on the table and kicking a field goal with the stupid things head. "What would we do after that?" Alec asked through gritted teeth. God d**n, that thing was going to die soon, even if Alec himself got hurt during the process. There was a pause. "I don't know. Hold it down until it transforms back to human form?" It was more of a question than a statement. Alec looked at Chris down the table and sent a thought message, which was something along the lines of "how do you stand this thing? Can I please kill it?" Chris jumped and looked at Alec through wide eyes. His expression softened after a moment and then he laughed. "Maybe later, Alec. For now, we need him." Everyone at the table looked at either Alec or Chris, completely missing what just happened. Garrett was the only one to speak his mind. "What the f**k...?" he said confusedly. "Perhaps a better idea would be to lead the werewolf inside where, and lock him in one of the rooms." Chris cut Garrett off with a cursory glance at the guy. The strange outburst from Chris was quickly fogotten. "Do you have a room that would work?" Ed spoke out. Alec looked at him. Did everyone think was just a free-for-all-say-whatever-the-f**k-you-want meeting? He realized (rather guiltily) that it actually was. "We do." Number Four spoke for the first time at the meeting. All heads (even Number Three's annoying bobbing one) turned to him. "Which one?" Chris inquired. "One that we found quite recently." Number Four replied in his own stolid voice. "Found?" Chris was confused. "Oh, I forgot to tell you. We have discovered that this entire hill is pretty much hollow. Large rooms, like this, and small rooms are everywhere, usually hidden from view by a thin barrier of rock." "I see..." Chris said. He suddenly imagined have a cave the size of an entire town. The whole hill? That was insane. Perhaps this strange chain of bubbles in the rock (as he was thinking of them) extended many miles. He could now imagine a whole city down here, manned by his undead minions, all of them working and building, and... doing what? Creating weapons? Armor? Other minions? He was suprised by that thought. Minions creating minions? That was unthinkable, but at the same time... "It is actually right through there." Number Four cut off Chris' thoughts as he pointed toward the room where he kept corpses. "Towards the back, on the right side as you walk in." "How big is it?" Aaron asked. 'Jesus, this is a free-for-all' Alec thought. "About the size of... this table." Number Four said. Everyone present looked at the table. It was about twenty feet long and four feet wide. "Not as long though," Number Four added. "And perhaps a bit wider." "That should work, shouldn't it?" Alec asked Chris, who nodded. "We aren't giving him a suite here, just a place to hold him until he changes. Oh, by the way," he turned to Number Four, "Is there currently a gate for it?" "No, sir." Number Four replied. "Would you like one installed?" "Yes." Chris said. "And as quickly as possible." Number Four nodded and Chris looked down the table at Alec. "Do you think that's all?" "We never decided on how we're going to capture him." Aaron chimed in. Number Three's head was soon going to be gone if he kept up with the incredibly irritating bobbing a turning. "Ah, yes." Chris said. "Have you any ideas?" "Perhaps we could do what Number umm, Three here suggested." Patrick spoke. "Just sort of dogpile the thing and drag him off to his prison." "Dogpile?" Number Two inquired. "Prison?" Chris grinned. Another chance to expand their vocaularies! This was kinda like having kids. Big, burly, undead, bloodthirsty kids. "Dogpile is like Number Three suggested. Just sort of get a bunch of people to just on something, usually to pin it down. And a prison is a like a place where you put someone to keep them there. Like what we're going to do with the werewolf." Number Two (and the other two minions) didn't know the phrase "pin it down," but they all figured it out in due time. Number Two nodded. "Thank you. I understand." Chris looked back at Alec. "Any other sugestions?" "Well, I was thinking that perhaps we could have Zack here wait at the entrance, and then when the werewolf comes, run to the prison, and when he's outside of it, we all jump out and push the beast in, and close the door. Err... rock. Err... gate. Thing." Alec wasn't sure exactly what to call it. Chris nodded. "I think that is a better idea. So that will be out main plan, and if that fails, we resort to Number Three's plan of dogpiling it. Agreed?" Everyone nodded. "Agreed."
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