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Twisted Experience and TCW - View topic - Non-Match Feuding
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 Non-Match Feuding 
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Can thou not hearest? Let me turneth it up!
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Joined: Mon Sep 29, 2003 3:37 am
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Location: Canadalina
Post Non-Match Feuding

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May the angels weep piss for your heathen souls.

I have no money, I am a failure, my leaders have led me to ruin, and I welcome the absolving embrace of death.


Thu Mar 17, 2005 6:06 am
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Can thou not hearest? Let me turneth it up!
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Joined: Mon Sep 29, 2003 3:37 am
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Location: Canadalina
Post 
After Road to Glory, prior to the arrival in Ames...

Once again, inside the ethereal darkness. There is so much nothing here that it's suffocating. The same two figures as usual: one, barely existing, almost as if he's mere breaths away from fading into the fog that permeates; the other, the only solidity present, his anger so deep that he glows with darkness.

"... and his throat should be sore for weeks. See, this is why I come to you. Unlike all those other fucks, you know what you're talking about, and you get results. That means I get results. The only one I can count on is the one who barely even exists..."

That damn pause again. Waiting for him to reply. Waiting, waiting, waiting wai--

"You can count on that, but at what cost to you?"

"What do I care? I have nothing left to lose, and everything to gain. For all I care, I go down in a blaze, just as long as I take every last one of them with me."

Rolling his eyes, Lance turns his back to the figure.

"You can repeat that as many times as you'd like, but you know I can see beyond your words. Especially here."

Lance spins back around, the darkness around him deepening.

"Maybe I was wrong. Maybe I can't count on you, because you pretty clearly don't know what the fuck you're talking about!"

"I can see so clearly here, Lance. I can see exactly why you do what you do. Exactly why you did what you did to me. Why you'll try to do it again. Why why why. You're the most transparent thing here."

Something was wrong. Lance could feel it as the fog swirled around him. That voice...

"Turn around! Show me your face! Let me fucking see you, dammit!"

The ghostly figure begins to take on more of a shape, the fog swirling faster around them, and he turns to face the Canuck.

:wha:

_________________
May the angels weep piss for your heathen souls.

I have no money, I am a failure, my leaders have led me to ruin, and I welcome the absolving embrace of death.


Thu Mar 17, 2005 6:43 am
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Can thou not hearest? Let me turneth it up!
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Shogun in non-match. Told ya I'd make an O face.

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May the angels weep piss for your heathen souls.

I have no money, I am a failure, my leaders have led me to ruin, and I welcome the absolving embrace of death.


Thu Mar 17, 2005 6:44 am
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European Champ
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Post 
He sits alone in the corner, staring out into space. He squints, trying to see through the smog of his minds eye, trying to gain a glimpse of what or who addresses him... How? How can the-

Person: "Hi, I'm Ian and I'm-"

-y do this, how is it possible?

P2: "Hi I'm Carl-"

It can't be. There's a line between reality and hallucination, a tangible one and he hadn't crossed it...

Co-ordinator: "Sir? Sir? Would you li-"

...Unless he had crossed another line, unless he had crossed the line to .








Lance: "Oh right... Hi, I'm Lance and I'm a drug addict."


Thu Mar 17, 2005 11:36 am
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Post 
Post deleted by Tubby.


Thu Mar 17, 2005 11:42 am
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Official Taco Eater of ECF
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Thu Mar 17, 2005 1:34 pm
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Check your blind spot
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Joined: Tue Mar 12, 2002 12:00 am
Posts: 982
Location: the banks of the deep end
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Happy St. Patrick's Day. And do you know what that means? That means that your favorite ECF Owner, the one for whom everyone is knocking each other over to see about bumping their careers up a few notches (but, as was made painfully obvious over a week ago, is still f'n impossible) is back in front of the brew that he made famous. A nice frothy black glass of Guinness.

The atmosphere around him is rauchous, loud. Terrible fake Irish accents dot the air in vain attempts to make others laugh. Quite pathetic, really. After the fifth or sixth 'Tawp O tha marnin' too ya' he's ready to make good use of the buzz he's working on. But that'd ruin his mood, moreso than it already is by virtue of his sharing the bar with a bunch of loudmouth fucks who couldn't be more American....or more boring.

He figures one or two more and he'll be ready for his role in the new and allegedly improved ECF/411 merger, a decision on which he was outvoted but not out-shouted. Those assholes will pay. Eventually.

Bump. The seventh 'Tawp O tha mornin' too ya' comes from a guy who got shoved into him by a fellow inebriate. It's actually yelled into his ear. Not only can DM hear it, he can smell it. Cheap domestic piss breath wafts across his nostrils, the clover that broke the leprechaun's back.

Hey, after 7-8 brews he isn't much for witty thoughts.

Or patience.

One fluid movement sends the pathetic imitation down the bar through a good dozen or so people's drinks before settling on the remnants of a table. The bar falls silent. DM takes a look around before grabbing his jacket and heading for the door. Yeah. It's good to be himself again.

Of course, the bad Irish accent doesn't think so. But neither will good Canadian ones.

_________________
1x ECF E-Champion
1x ECF Transcontinental Champion
3x ECF World Heavyweight Champion


Fri Mar 18, 2005 12:58 am
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Ticket Taker on the Darkside Express
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Joined: Thu Jan 02, 2003 1:44 pm
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Location: Whever a bad pun can be made
Post 

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Don't think of me as EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEVIL, think of me as a man walking a line - push me and I drop on YOU MUA HA HA HA HA :evil:


Fri Mar 18, 2005 12:14 pm
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Spammer!

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I enjoy penis.


Sat Apr 02, 2005 9:49 am
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I am the walrus

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Think about it


Sat Apr 02, 2005 6:11 pm
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Linda McMahon
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Joined: Wed Mar 16, 2005 3:01 pm
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- lots and lots of short fiction, written by me, regularly updated.

- it's a space opera novel I wrote.

I have some shit on Kindle too: ,


Sat Apr 02, 2005 11:13 pm
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The bullet ripped through the darkness. An instant later, the bullet tore through the man's chest and continued out the other side, slamming into the brick wall with enough force to send a tiny cloud of mortar into the air. The man looked down at the hole in his chest, his eyes wide and his mouth open in shock. With an almost casual grace, he reached up with his hands and touched the blood, bringing it to his eyes. A dead man's denial ensued. The man shook his head, trying to wake up from the dream, but slowly, the sleep took him. A moment later, he was slumped on the ground, his back against the wall to the large brick home. A streak of blood traced his fall where he had slumped to the ground.

The other sentry didn't fare any better. Another bullet took him down, this time impacting with his head. He had no time to deny anything. Lupelli stood up from his resting spot almost two hundred yards away. His gloved hand reached into his pocket and pulled out a Cuban cigar. Bringing the scalding hot barrell of the rifle to the end, he lit the cigar with a puff of deep smoke. A moment later, he began to break down the sniper's rifle. He unscrewed the silencer, placing it carefully into the case. A moment later, the rest of the rifle followed, now carefully broken down. Lupelli lifted the case from the ground and walked to his car. He pulled a key from his pocket and opened the trunk, dropping the case in. After shutting the trunk, Lupelli turned around and began to walk back toward the brick home.

There was a pause after he knocked. From somewhere in the house, Lupelli heard the approach of footsteps. He reached up a gloved hand and straightened his tie. His other hand remained in his pocket. The cigar glowed in the darkness, illuminating his face with an orange glow. A second later, the door opened and a figure stuck his head out.

Man: "Who the fuck are you?"

Lupelli: "I'm here to see Mr. Lastella."

The man looked Lupelli up and down a moment, his greasy hair falling over his face as he did so. He absently brushed a clump of hair away from his face and cleared his throat.

Greasy Man: "You looking to buy?"

Lupelli: "Absolutely. Is Mr. Lastella here?"

The greasy man relaxed a bit at the news and opened the door wide open for him.

Greasy Man: "Yeah, he's in his bedroom with a new employee."

Lupelli: "Yeah?"

The greasy man grinned and gave Lupelli a wink.

Greasy Man: "Yeah."

Lupelli followed the greasy man into a nearby room. Several women were sitting on wooden chairs. Lupelli looked around the room, noting that there was a single toilet, plugged by sewage. It was simply sitting in the corner, no privacy. Lupelli's eyes travelled over the females in the room, noting that each of them had bruises and scars all over their bodies. The greasy man motioned to the nearest girl, a small blond that couldn't have been any older than eighteen. She walked over slowly. Lupelli noted that she seemed to be limping.

Greasy Man: "She's my favorite. Tell him your name, sweetheart."

Blond Girl: "Sarah."

The greasy man slapped her as Lupelli watched, his hand still resting in his pocket.

Greasy Man: "Sarah what?"

The blond girl wiped a fresh stream of blood from her bottom lip and looked at the greasy man with sad, defeated eyes.

Blond Girl: "Sarah- sir."

Greasy Man: "That's a good bitch. Sit the fuck down."

The greasy man turned back to Lupelli, a grin on his face. Lupelli noted that he was missing several teeth and a few more were on their way to rotting out and joining the missing. The man gestured to the women sitting across from them.

Greasy Man: "So, see anything you like?"

Lupelli: "Just one."

Lupelli pulled his hand from his coat pocket and levelled his custom-made silver baretta at the man's face. The greasy man's eyes grew large as he stared down the barrell. The black hole seemed to swallow his voice. All he could do was open and close his mouth like a fish that had been pulled from the water. Lupelli pulled his cigar from his mouth with his free hand and hollered to the women.

Lupelli: "I'm going to ask you ladies to leave. You don't need to see this."

It was as if a magical barrier had suddenly been broken. The women, all twenty plus of them, got up and began to silently walk from the room. Lupelli kept his eyes locked onto the greasy man's, but he could feel the excitement from the women vibrating through the room like electricity. They were free. Sarah walked up to the two on her way out, a tiny trickle of blood still leaked from her lip. She inhaled deeply and spit onto the greasy man's face.

Sarah: "Serves you right, sir."

Sarah was the last to leave. Lupelli waited until he heard the door close before placing the cigar back into his mouth. The smoke curled toward the ceiling, where it formed random shapes before vanishing. The greasy man's eyes never left the black hole in the gun. Sarah's spittle oozed down his face, a mixture of saliva and blood, but the greasy man did not notice.

Lupelli: "This is no way to run a business."

The greasy man's eyes snapped up to Lupelli's when he spoke. It was as if he had been lost in some trance and was finally able to free himself. What happened next was exactly what Lupelli expected.

Greasy Man: "I-I can get you money! Women! Anything! Just don't kill me!"

Lupelli: "No way to run a business."

The next sound was the muffled WHUMP! as the bullet raced down the barrel and through the silencer before slamming into the greasy man's face. Lupelli left him on the floor, making sure to walk around the mess before heading up the stairs and toward the bedroom. He did not need to guess where it was, he heard the noises long before he got there:

"You're mine now bitch!"

"Stop it!"

"I decide when to stop!"


The conversation was randomly intermingled with the sounds of a hand striking flesh. Lupelli reached forward and turned the knob, half expecting it to be locked. To his surprise, the door slid open like a silent ghost, no squeak, no noise. The man was back-to. Lupelli knew right away by the tattoo on the man's right shoulder that this was Marco Lastella. Lupelli looked down in time to see Lastella's hand strike the face of a young girl. She tried to get her hands in the way, but Lastella knocked them down and slapped her again.

Lastella: "Don't you ever touch me unless I tell you to, bitch!"

Lastella moved to strike her again.

Lupelli: "Cursing is a sin."

Lastella whipped around, locking eyes with Lupelli. Lupelli stared at him a moment before glancing down at the young girl. She looked right back at him with sad eyes. Sad, but also defiant. Lastella had not broken her spiritually. He noted the black eyes and the bloody nose. The cuts across her cheek and on her arms and legs. Physically, yes, but not spiritually. Marco Lastella broke the silence.

Lastella: "Just who the fuck are you!?"

Lupelli: "It's not polite to swear in front of a lady."

Lastella grinned and wiped a bead of sweat from his brow.

Lastella: "A lady? I don't see a lady here."

Lastella kicked the girl in the stomach, doubling her over. She lay on the floor, gasping for breath as Lastella turned back to Lupelli, a grin on his face.

Lastella: "Nope, no lady. All we have here is a dumb fucking bit-"

BANG!

Lastella fell to the ground and Lupelli walked forward, placing his foot on his chest. Lupelli held the gun, newly freed of the silencer, against Marco's head. Marco Lastella looked up at Lupelli, his eyes wide. Blood poured from Lastella's crotch as Lupelli stared down at his mark.

Lastella: "You sh-shot my d-dick off!"

Lupelli nodded and traced the outline of Lastella's face with his pistol.

Lupelli: "That's right. Don't worry though. You won't miss it."

Lupelli emptied the entire clip into Lastella. When he was finished, he pulled a fresh cigar from his pocket and struck a match on a blood-free patch of Lastella's skin. Lupelli inhaled deeply and stared at the ceiling a moment, relishing the sweet aroma and flavor. Finally, he brought his eyes down to look at the young girl. She was no longer gasping for breath, she was sitting up, silently breathing as she looked at him with her sad, but defiant eyes.

Lupelli: "What's your name?"

Girl: "Valentina."

Lupelli: "Your parents know you're here, Valentina?"

Valentina: "I don't have any parents."

Lupelli nodded thoughtfully. He pulled his cigar from his mouth and exhaled a plume of sweet-smelling smoke.

Lupelli: "Come on, I'll get you something to eat."

Valentina stared at Lupelli distrustfully. He placed his cigar back into his mouth.

Lupelli: "If I wanted to hurt you, I already would have. C'mon, I'll get you something to eat."

Valentina stayed put, her eyes still full of mistrust. Lupelli sighed and pulled his pistol from his pocket. Valentina's eyes looked at Lupelli with an "I thought so" stare. Lupelli paused a moment before tossing her the pistol. Valentina caught the gun and turned her eyes down to it. The custom pistol was intricately made. She ran her hand along the side of it before turning her eyes back up to Lupelli.

Lupelli: "If I try anything, you can shoot me."

Valentina: "It's empty."

Lupelli smiled and tossed Valentina a clip.

Lupelli: "There. Now, you can shoot me if I try anything. Let's get you something to eat."

--FIN--

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Fri Jul 01, 2005 5:42 pm
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Post Purge - ORIGIN (Part II & III)
PART II

12/6/92

It's about 2:00 PM Eastern in the very well-off town of Newport Beach, California. Those familiar with this area are familiar with the million dollar view. McMansion after McMansion plastered all over the cliffs and hills of this Southern California coastline. In this particular house there is a father and a mother.

Father: So any idea where he is?

Mother: They get out at 3:00. He should be home from school in about an hour and a half.

Father: I really think he is gonna dig Whidby Island.

Mother: What about the two day drive before that?

Father: He'll get through it. Once he gets there he'll take back everything he says during the drive.

Mother: So you admit we're in for a hell of a drive?

Father: You might wanna try having a little faith in the old man. I've been known to pull a big thing or two off.

Mother: Yeah, but we're not talking about a "big thing", we're talking about out son. You HAVE met our son, right?

Father: [laughing] I'm telling you, there will be no difficulties on this one. Or at least it will even itseld out in the end. Nobody can resist the Puget Sound. If the Ferry ride doesn't get him the bronze man and his bronze dog in Langly will definitely do the job.

Mother: And if that fails?

Father: Well ... it won't. At least I don't think it will. [grins] Okay, I HOPE it won't. But hey, if it does we'll just take him to Pike Place and he'll have a field day at that comic store. [jokingly] This trip WILL be a success, dammit!

The Mother just laughs and rolls her eyes at the Father. You can tell by the way she looks at him that she still adores him as much as she ever has. It's been a long time since they were able to take any kind of vacation. Ten years to be exact.

Father: We're gonna have a great time.

Just then the doorbell rings.

Father: Can you grab that, babe? I gotta load a few more things into the car.

Mother: Sure. [the doorbell rings again] Coming! [the doorbell rings once more] Hold on! [the mother opens the door] Oh, hey Kassidy!

Kassidy: [in a shy tone] Is he home yet?

Mother: I'm sorry honey, he is still at school for about another hour or so. What are you doing home so early?

Kassidy: I had to go to the doctors today. I didn't think he would be home yet, but I let him borrow a movie and my mom asked me to get it back. Is it okay if I look for it in his room?

Mother: [smiling] Sure, come in!

Kassidy: Thank you Mrs. Gold.

The mother acknowledges the young girl's thank you and then closes the door behind the both of them. Kassidy walks up the stairs and into the young boy's room. As the Mother is walking back to the living room the Father comes back into the house from the garage.

Father: Who was that?

Mother: Who do you think it was? The little girl that sees more of our son than we do. She let him borrow a movie, so she is up in his room looking for it.

Father: The boy's got skills baby, what can I say?

Mother: The boy is 10, why can't he wait a little while before putting those "skills" on display?

Father: [laughing] He's his father's son. Don't act like resisting a Gold's charm is some simple task. Let's face it, she isn't the first to fail in that respect

The doorbell rings again.

Mother: [grinning] You're lucky I don't have time to dispute that one.

The Mother opens the door to find a gun pointed at her forehead. The gun is held by a Man in all black wearing a black mask. She is in shock.

Man: Back up into the house, love.

Father: [walking from the living room up towards the door] What's going on here? [notices man with the gun] What in the hell is going on?

Without a warning the man pulls the trigger and takes out the Mother. The Father charges at the man after witnessing his wife being killed, but receives a gunshot wound in each his knee caps for his troubles.

Father: [screaming] AHHHHHHHH!

The Man in all black lets out a bit of a sinister laugh, almost out of a movie. But this isn't a movie. The Man walks towards the fallen Father.

Man: Isn't this quite the tragedy? [laughing] First he loses his father, then his brother, and now the love of his life. Doesn't seem like you have much to live for now, do you Gold?

Father: Who are you?

Man: Don't concern yourself with that Mr. Gold. Wouldn't want your last thoughts to be about me, would you?

Father: Why have you done this? What have I done to deserve this?

Man: You've got something I want.

Father: I'll give you anything.

Man: I wasn't asking.

The man crouches down to get a little closer to the Father. The Man slowly peels the black mask up off his face for the Father to see. The Father's eyes grow extremely large as he opens his mouth, but the gun goes off and finishes him off.

Man: I think I might have everything I need here.

The Man begins to the door, but then he hears a noise up stairs and goes to investigate. He opens the Kid's room and sees movement behind one of the curtains next to the large window. As you see the Man in black raise his gun towards the curtain the gun goes off and you see the shadow of a body drop on one of the walls.

Man: No more interruptions? [waits a few seconds] Beautiful.

---

PART III

12/6/92

This started out as a wonderful day for the Golds. The Mother and the Father had been hoping that they would eventually get back on their feet, and recently they had. The presence of a son meant money was going to be tight for a while, but they got through it, and this was their reward. Newport Beach, where all of the beautiful people live. This had been their new home for the last 5 months. But it came at a price. Seven months prior to the massacre in Newport Beach there was an incident. An accident. It was televised for the world to see. It happened before our very eyes. The old man died of old age, but his children weren't as lucky. Before Chris Gold and his wife Stacy were hunted down where they live, there was the incident with his brother Alister.

-

5/2/92

Alister Gold is having a hard time with the death of his father. He knows his father was old and had lived a long life, but that didn't make it any easier to let go. There were things about his father he didn't understand, but these things didn't come up until he had already died and he could no longer ask for an explaination. The explaination Alister sought was why his father didn't just split everything between he and his brother.

Alister Gold: <speaking to his dead father> Why? Why would you knowingly force this rift on us?

In January when Chris and Alister's father died they never imagined they would be met with such a strange situation. Rather than leave portions or his riches to each of his sons he wrote in his will that the fortune continue to be held as is until only one of the brothers remained.

Alister Gold: Even in death you try to pit us against eachother, and over what? Your dirty money? How hard would it have been, you son of a bitch?!

Alister loved his father, and his brother, but when the old man died there was a rift. While Chris went off and married his love, Alister stayed around and cared for his father. He had no real worries and was provided for every step of the way. This is what made the will so difficult to understand.

Alister Gold: You relied on me in your sickness, and in turn you allowed me to rely on you! Now I have nothing! You knew this and yet you still put this strain on me?!

Alister took care of his father, and his father supported him financially. Their relationship grew to be something they had never had when he and his brother were growing up. That is why the will dumbfounded him, and crushed him.

Alister Gold: <looking up as if to speak to his father> So this is what it has to come down to, huh?

Alister picks up a gun and begins looking it down. He examines it from different angles before putting it up to his skull.

Alister Gold: Who knew that the person I loved most in the world would ultimately come back to bite me in the ass? And from the grave no less?! <removes gun from skull>

You see a gasoline can sitting on the stove as Alister sits on the ground in the other room. Alister points his gun at the gasoline bucket just as the view switches to the outside of the house.

Alister Gold: I guess this is how it ends. See ya' soon ... you piece of ..

The gun goes off and there is a large explosion that engulfs the home in flames

-

12/6/92

It's 3:20 and the Gold kid is on his way home from school. Chris and Stacy had been trying for years to set up a real family vacation, but they could never quite put together the funds to do it. The kid really didn't care about trips and vacations, but it looked like it meant a lot to his parents. His Father had spent a number of summers up near Seattle on some island, and he couldn't stop talking about it. So while it didn't really mean much to him, it did, because it meant so much to his Father. The kid loved his parents, but he got along especially well with his father. He was dreading the drive, but he couldn't wait to get home nonetheless.

Young Gold: <rounding the corner now with his house in view> Whidbey Island, huh?

The younger Gold continues walking towards his home. As he gets closer and closer he notices that the door is slightly cracked. Suddenly it shuts. Gold finally reaches his home and opens up the door.

Young Gold: I'm home!

Gold doesn't hear a response from his parents, but that isn't really unusual. He figues they are probably somewhere in the house finishing up their packing. His parents had both taken off from work early, or at least that was supposed to be the plan. Maybe they hadn't been able to? Gold walks into the kitchen and grabs a glass from the cubbard. He goes over to the fridge and pushes the cup into the water dispenser, and then relieves himself after a long, hot walk home.

Young Gold: Mom? Dad? You guys home yet?

Instead of going through the kitchen into the living room he traces his steps back up to the front door and goes up the stairs. Whether they were home or not he still had a few things to pack before he was ready to go. No way he can go on a two day drive without so much as a few things for his entertainment. Gameboy, Mini-Connect Four. One way or another he is gonna entertain himself. Either that or die of boredom which isn't an option. The young Gold opens the door to his room only to see the horror of what has happened to his little companion.

Young Gold: Kassi? KASSI?!

Gold runs over to the little girl who - somehow - is still breathing. It seems the bullet hit her in the thigh, and that she could still be alright.

Young Gold: Kassi, are you alright? What are you doing here?

Kassidy: Please get me out of here, I want to go home. <crying> I WANT TO GO HOME!

Young Gold: Shhhh. Who did this?

Kassidy: <frantic> I don't know Scott, I don't know, please, just get me out of here Scott, please!

Man: <appearing out of nowhere> Don't be foolish sweetheart, you're not going to be going anywhere. <huge sick smile>

The young Gold is enraged. He puts two and two together.

Young Gold: Why have you hurt her?!

Man: Such anger for a child. And just think, he doesn't even know.

Young Gold: What don't I know?

Man: Well, I am not one to tempt the inspiration of anger, but ... I've got a bit of a confession to make. Your parents ... well Young Mr. Gold ... they are dead. And I ... well I KILLED THEM! <busts out laughing>

As he hears this, Gold grabs a pair of scissors he was using on a project board for school and rushes at the man, sinking them almost all the way through the man's right hand. The Man screams in agony.

Man: Anger is a dangerous thing, Scott.

The Man clocks the kid - now identified as Scott Gold, and then proceeds to drag him down the stairs along with the girl. The Man throws the two kids next to the broken bodies of the boy's parents.

Man: <lighting a match> Sweet dreams children.

The Man throws the match down on an area of the carpet and then proceeds to hop in a limo. As the house begins to fill more and more with flames Scott begins to regain himself. He goes over to his Father and Mother, but there is no life in them, and they are almost unrecognizable. He then goes over and cradles Kassidy's head in his lap/arms, but her body is now lifeless. She lost too much blood. The Young Gold ducks his head down and begins to cry. He realizes the flames will soon bring the place to the ground, and decides he has to leave his loved ones. As he is walking out the back door he takes one last glimpse of the three as his Father's body suddenly catches fire. The tears begin to pour out liberally, but he can't stay.

TO BE CONTINUED ....


Wed Jul 06, 2005 2:08 pm
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Location: In the shadows behind you
Post The Hit pt. 1
A gentle breeze pushed its way through the trees, filling the air with the soothing sound of rustling leaves. The grass bent slightly as the wind moved over it, carving a path until it hit the next stand of trees, hovering on top of a small hill like silent sentries. Lupelli stood in the trees, shrouded in the shadows that the limbs and branches provided. A large, leather suitcase rested by his feet.

Lupelli stood still, his hands up to his face, holding a pair of binoculars. His left hand reached up slightly to adjust the spy-glasses. Finally, after several hours of patient waiting, Lupelli spotted his mark. Walking onto the grounds, surrounded by more bodyguards than Britney Spears. Sergei Kolesnikov, a member of the Russian mafia. Lupelli grimaced. He found the Russian mafia to be a distasteful group. They lacked the defined class and dignity of the older crime syndicates. Even more distasteful to Lupelli was the killing of several Sicilian bosses by Russian hitman. They were moving in on territory that had been claimed for decades. That would not go unpunished. Lupelli quickly scouted the grounds, noting the position of every camera.

Satisfied, Lupelli lowered the binoculars and set them on the ground beside the large suitcase. Lupelli gently set the suitcase on its side and opened it. In silence, Lupelli looked in at his arsenal. With the same silence, Lupelli reached in and began removing weapons and holsters, placing them in strategic areas. Areas that would provide easy access to a particular weapon when needed, but not hinder movement or make noise. Across his chest, Lupelli strapped on his two legendary custom silver Berettas. Several clips were placed in the holsters underneath the weapons. Knives, additional guns and a garrot wire finished off his weapons. Finally, Lupelli carefully extracted a small, black bag from the case, slinging it carefully over his shoulder before closing the suitcase. Ready, Lupelli began to make his way toward the walled estate.

It was slow going at first, the sun overhead was not ideal for assaulting a heavily armed and defneded position, but Lupelli had his orders. It was to be a daylight hit to show the superiority of the Sicilian mafia. Let the Russian mafia know that they could not hide. Lupelli finally reached the outer wall of the estate. He quickly assessed the height at twelve feet. Except for the guarded gate, the wall ran all of the way around the compound. Lupelli made his way to the back, exactly opposite of the front gate. There, he unstrapped the bag and went to work.

Several minutes later, Lupelli was facing the front gate. He could see three armed guards pacing to and fro in front of the heavy iron, each armed with automatic machine guns. Lupelli checked his watch, deciding to wait another thirty seconds. He had memorized the movement and speed of the guards in the compound. In thirty seconds, several of them would be directly across from him, near the wall where he had been minutes before.

20

Lupelli pulled out his two silver berettas

22

Lupelli removed two clips

24

With a casual grace, Lupelli slid the clips into the pistols

28

Lupelli held both pistols with one hand and lifted a small object with a button

30

Lupelli's thumb gently pressed the red button and a moment later, all hell broke loose. The explosion from the five pounds of C-4 was deafening, as were the screams of the guards that happened to be directly in front of it. Lupelli stood up and began to walk toward the front gate. He dropped the detonator onto the ground and replaced it with one of the two pistols, both now clutched tightly in each hand. As expected, the three guards at the gate were looking at the chaos and had temporarily forgotten about the gate itself. Lupelli fired three times and the three guards fell. The gate was still tightly closed. Lupelli heard the shouting as several more guards ran toward it, having heard the gunshots. Lupelli made his move, waiting to see the guards and then firing with expert precision. Two more guards fell. Another guard made it to the gate and stuck his gun out, firing rapidly in every direction. Moments later, he was joined by several more guards all firing into the undergrowth. Lupelli, meanwhile, had worked his way back to the source of the explosion. Four guards were there, checking on their fallen comrades. Lupelli finished them off and walked forward into the compound. Two more shots disabled the cameras, one on the roof of the compound itself, the other on top of the wall. Several guards ran forward, firing. Lupelli ducked down, using a dead guard as cover, while he reloaded his pistols.

A second later, Lupelli sprang back up, firing at the guards. Several more fell and Lupelli ran forward, moving for the building. He could hear the sound of gunfire and could feel the mortar flying into his face as the bullets slammed into the house all around him. He reached the entrance and ducked into the doorway, waiting a moment to catch his breath and reload. A guard leaped into view as Lupelli was loading his second pistol, but he quickly pulled out a silver knife and hurled it forward. With a thump, it embedded itself in the guard's left eye. He fell to the ground, dead instantly. Both pistols loaded, Lupelli fired once, blowing a hold in the latch to the front door. Taking a moment to kill another three guards, Lupelli ducked into the house.

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Mon Aug 01, 2005 4:15 pm
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Post The Hit pt. 2
A quick check of the hallway told Lupelli that there were no guards. Lupelli quickly moved further into the house, ducking into a nearby room just as several guards entered the house. Lupelli ducked into the shadows, his black suit giving him extra protection. He took a brief moment to count to ten and then he lifted the black bag, removing the two final objects contained within: another detonator and a pair of night vision goggles. Lupelli reached into a pocket, freezing momentarily as a guard entered the room and looked around. A moment later, the guard left, apparently satisfied that the room was empty. Lupelli removed his hand from his pocket, extracting a silencer. He carefully holstered one of his pistols and then held the other pistol in one hand while screwing the silencer in with the other. After finishing this, Lupelli slipped the night vision goggles over his head, bathing the surrounding room in a bright green glow. The daylight from outside was bright, but Lupelli was aware that most of the windows had blinds over them, not to mention that Kolesnikov would be in a central location in the house, most likely without windows.

Lupelli depressed the red button on the detonator. Dimly, in the distance, the sound of another explosion, much smaller than the first, could be heard. Several shouts were heard, followed moments later, by the quieting sound of the electricity going out. Lupelli always marvelled at how much noise there really was that most people never heard. The silence from the blackout was almost deafening. From experience, he knew that the guards would be disoriented and vulnerable. Lupelli stood up from his location and moved forward, the silenced pistol in one hand and a long knife with a serrated edge in the other. Lupelli quietly peeked into the hallway. The hallway was plunged into total darkness. Lupelli could see several guards moving around in a panicked state, one even colliding with a statue. When the statue fell over, a guard yelled out, blindly firing in the direction of the sound. The bullet took one of his own down as they struggled to see. Lupelli moved forward slowly, making as little noise as possible. In front of him, a guard stood, back-to, his eyes wide as he strained to see any sign of movement through the blackness. A moment later, Lupelli had plunged the knife into the base of his neck, severing the spine and killing him instantly. Lupelli lowered him quietly to the floor and moved onto the next guard.

The guards in the hallway dispatched, Lupelli began to search the house, room-by-room, looking for Kolesnikov. The first several rooms were empty, but the following room had several more Russians in it. Lupelli tried to move into the room as quietly as he could, but a section of the floor gave a squeak. Immediately the blinding flashes of muzzle flares filled the room as the guards opened fire in the direction of the doorway. Lupelli ducked back out and crouched down beside the entrance to the room. A moment later, the gunfire subsided as the men in the room stopped to reload. Lupelli made his move, laying on the floor and reaching around the doorway. He pulled the trigger several times and he heard several screams as his bullets hit their marks. More gunfire erupted as those still alive in the room resumed their blind shooting. Lupelli ducked back out of sight and looked around him, finally spotting a broken piece of porcelain on the floor near his foot. He cocked back and threw it into the room, hearing it impact against the far wall. There were some screams in Russian and he heard the gunfire aim away, trying to hit the source of the sound. Lupelli ducked into the room, seeing five men firing at the wall. Lupelli took them down in five shots.

Room by room, Lupelli moved through the house, exterminating everyone and everything that moved. Finally, he came to a room on the top floor. A heavy wooden door blocked his entry. Lupelli pressed his ear to the door and could hear the muffled muttering of several men, all speaking in Russian. Lupelli leaned back, lifting his foot, and heaved forward quickly, driving his foot against the heavy wooden door. With a splintering crack, the door fell off of its hinges, slamming to the floor. Lupelli looked in and was immediately blinded by several bright flashlight beams that pierced through the darkness. Quickly, Lupelli leaped out of the way, narrowly avoiding a hail of bullets that flew at him. He ripped the goggles from his head and cast them aside, blinking rapidly to try and clear his vision. Several white spots dominated his view.

A moment later, Lupelli heard a whirring sound as a generator kicked in, bathing the entire building in artificial light. Lupelli could hear approaching steps and moved around the corner, still trying to clear his vision. The footsteps grew even closer. Lupelli closed his eyes and listened. He did some quick math in his head. The steps were fifteen meters away. The hallway was three meters wide. Lupelli reached his arm around the corner and quickly fired, aiming first into the middle of the hallway and then quickly firing toward the sides. Silence met his ears for a moment and then he heard the unmistakable thump of a body hitting the floor.

After several more moments, Lupelli's vision had come back into focus. The bright white spots had been reduced to tiny specks that seemed to float in front of him. A moment later, they were gone, too. Lupelli peered around the corner and saw a guard laying on the ground. Lupelli's bullet had hit him in the lower face, almost removing his entire jaw. Careful to avoid the mess, Lupelli crept forward, toward the room. He paused next to the doorway, listening. He could hear three distinctive voices. Lupelli moved back to the man with the bullet where his mouth used to be and lifted his limp body into the air. Lupelli moved back to the room and gathered himself a moment before gripping the dead body tightly by the back of the neck and holding it in front of him like a morbid trophy. He then stepped forward, into the doorway. Gunfire immediately flew at him, but the bullets all tore into the already dead flesh of the guard. Lupelli carefully aimed and took out two guards. In front of him, a third guard stood slightly in front of Kolesnikov. Lupelli let the man empty his gun into the corpse and then dropped the dead body to the ground. The guard dropped his empty pistol and raced forward, fists clenched. Lupelli almost laughed at the sight, but elected instead to put a bullet directly between the man's eyes. With a thump, the guard hit the floor. Kolesnikov stared at Lupelli as he moved forward, making sure to not step in any guard.

Lupelli calmly removed the silencer from his pistol as it was not needed at this point. All of the guards were dead. There was no one to hide his presence from. Lupelli pocketed the silencer and then placed his pistol into its holster. Kolesnikov reached out his hands into the air. Lupelli noted with some satisfaction that they were violently shaking. In heavily accented English, Kolesnikov began to plead.

Kolesnikov: "P-Please, don't kill me!"

Lupelli: "You aren't so tough when you don't have thirty armed guards are you?"

Kolesnikov: "Please--"

Lupelli: "Did you think we would let you get away with killing our own?"

Kolesnikov: "No! Please, I- I was just following orders!"

Lupelli: "Me too."

Lupelli reached forward, gripping the Russian around the throat with one hand. Kolesnikov tried to speak again, but Lupelli squeezed his hand, cutting off the Russian's air flow. With his free hand, Lupelli reached into his back pocket and removed the garrot wire. Kolesnikov's eyes grew large as he watched the wire unravel in Lupelli's massive hand. Lupelli removed his other hand from Sergei's throat, preparing to grab the other end of the garrot wire. The Russian moved forward suddenly, trying to run. Annoyed, Lupelli caught him around the back of the collar and threw him violently against the wall.

Lupelli: "There's no running. This is your punishment. Accept it or don't. Either way, you're going to die."

Kolesnikov opened his mouth again to speak, but Lupelli quickly slipped the garrot wire around his throat. Sergei's mouth fell open in a silent scream of pain. Lupelli pulled as hard as he could and, several moment later, there was a wet popping sound.

Sergei Kolesnikov's mouth was still locked in the silent scream when the police arrived the next day. His body was several feet away. The police counted thirty-four dead bodies. They estimated that anywhere from fifteen to thirty men had done it. No one was ever arrested for the crime.

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Mon Aug 01, 2005 6:15 pm
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Location: In the shadows behind you
Post City View
Lupelli stood on the balcony of his penthouse, gazing out across the city of Palermo. Below him, cars moved around and people bustled to and fro like ants. Lupelli reached out a hand and gripped the railing that seperated him from oblivion and leaned out, inhaling the fresh air. He released his breath, shutting his eyes for a moment and taking in the sounds. Lupelli turned around to the sound of approaching footsteps. Valentina moved across the soft carpet on bare feet, a glass of wine in her hand. She reached the doorway and handed the wine to Lupelli, who accepted it with a smile. There was a brief moment where their hands touched and Lupelli felt a jolt in his stomach.

Valentina: "You look tired."

Lupelli turned back to face the city below him. It continued to go about its business as it always had, uncaring about his own thoughts.

Lupelli: "I am a little."

A pair of hands moved over Lupelli's back and rested gently on his shoulders a moment before gently moving in a circular massaging motion. Lupelli took a sip of wine and then shut his eyes. Valentina's hands moved with expert precision, hitting his muscles in just the right places to turn him into jelly. Lupelli turned his head and looked at Valentina's beautiful face. She gazed out over the city, her eyes soft. As if sensing him staring at her, Valentina's gaze suddenly shifted to look at Lupelli. Unsure of what else to do, he looked away. Valentina stared at him, a smile on her face. Her hands dropped from Lupelli's shoulders and she moved to stand beside him. Lupelli's hand gripped the railing while his other hand held the glass of wine. Valentina's hand rested beside his own.

Valentina: "Beautiful, isn't it?"

Lupelli: "Very."

Valentina looked over at the man that had saved her from hell and saw him looking not at the city, but at her. A moment later, Lupelli found his hand covered by Valentina's. The jolt came back this time, but didn't go away. The city of Palermo continued to move and bustle, once again oblivious to the emotions of two figures standing on a balcony. The sun set over the city, casting a bright red light over two people, one a tall, muscular man, the other a beautiful young woman, as they kissed.

____________________________
Two Years Before:

Lupelli: "How long were you there?"

Valentina's face was held low, as close to her plate as possible. She held a fork in each hand as she forced bite after bite into her mouth. Taking a brief moment's rest, she gulped from a glass of water and looked at the massive man that had taken her from Lastella that same night.

Valentina: "Only a week."

Lupelli watched the girl shovel more food into her mouth. She coughed momentarily as a piece of bread lodged in her throat, but she gulped more water and forced it down.

Lupelli: "How did you get there?"

At this, Valentina stopped eating and stared at Lupelli again with distrustful eyes. Lupelli stared back at her, his face expressionless.

Valentina: "Why do you want to know about me?"

Lupelli: "I have to take you back to your parents, kid."

Valentina's forks both fell against the plate with a loud clank and tumbled to the table, smearing red pasta sauce on the table cloth. Several patrons and a waitress turned to look, but looked away quickly when seeing Lupelli's reproachful gaze.

Valentina: "I don't have parents."

Lupelli: "So I'm to believe that you were born from a rock? Where did you come from, kid?"

Valentina: "I DON'T HAVE PARENTS!"

The restaurant fell into a silence as everyone stopped and stared. Lupelli turned his head to look at the majority of the people.

Lupelli: "Problem?"

Once again, people looked away. Lupelli turned back to look at Valentina, who seemed to be thrumming with energy. It looked like a live wire was underneath her, sending volts of electricity through her body.

Lupelli: "What did they do to you, kid?"

Valentina's body seemed to weaken visibly as she suddenly got a sad look on her face. He looked at her in alarm, not sure what was wrong with her.

Valentina: "They gave me to him."

Lupelli started, not expecting such a response. He watched as Valentina's bottom lip quivered slightly. She looked away, tears in her eyes. He reached into his jacket and pulled out a handkerchief. He passed it to Valentina who accepted it, wiping her eyes.

Valentina: "Thanks."

Lupelli nodded gravely and leaned back in his seat. Valentina lifted one of her forks from the table and resumed eating, but at a more moderate pace. Lupelli reached out a hand and lifted a breadstick from her plate, breaking it in half and placing half back down. He took a bite and Valentina laughed a bit.

Lupelli: "So what do you think you're going to do now, kid?"

Valentina furrowed her brow, becoming thoughtful for a moment.

Valentina: "I don't really know. I hadn't thought about it."

Lupelli stared at the teen, his eyes wandered over her scratched, but beautiful face. He had no romantic or sexual feelings for her, that was a part of him that he had never really cared to develop. It only interfered with his job. Still though, he found himself wanting to protect this girl. Lupelli leaned forward slightly.

Lupelli: "Look, I don't know if you'd want to, but you can stay with me for awhile."

Valentina's eyes narrowed slightly.

Lupelli: "I won't try anything."

Valentina's eyes remained narrowed as she stared at the massive man sitting across from her.

Lupelli: "Look kid, if I had wanted to rape you or hurt you, I would have had ample time to do that back at Lastella's."

Valentina: "Why?"

Lupelli furrowed his brow. It was an honest question. With anyone else, he would have either left them to their own fate or killed them for seeing his face.

Lupelli: "Honestly, I don't know. I just don't want anything to happen to you."

Lupelli felt Valentina's eyes on him and he silently cursed himself for saying something so stupid. His eyes opened again and, to his surprise, found Valentina smiling at him. It was the first genuine smile Lupelli had seen from her.

Valentina: "You mean it?"

Lupelli: "Yeah. Yeah, I mean it."

--Fin--

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Tue Aug 02, 2005 8:02 pm
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Post The Husher
Perhaps it is the rats. Every so often you can hear them skittering across the floor, their tiny paws making tiny patterings on the wet cement. Sometimes, you can hear them running over the pipes, tiny clicks fading into the distance like phantom echoes. Perhaps that high pitched scraping sound is really just the echo of a rat squeaking in the cavernous dark of the basement. Sound can carry down here, with the odd angles and protrusions. Perhaps that explains the squeak.

It could be the water, too. The drops of water falling to the floor with dull splashes, forming murky puddles of dirty water. In the distance, you can make out the bloated body of a rat, floating in a deeper puddle. Perhaps it's the water running off of the pipes that are causing them to pulsate and thump slightly.

The other sound though, there isn't much of an explanation for the other sound. It's a distinct sound, one that can come from only one thing: a human being. It's a faint giggling, high-pitched and rattling across the pipes. Where is it coming from though? Your eyes peer through the dark, trying to pierce the darkest corner, trying to make out the humanoid form that you are expecting.

Nothing. You find nothing in your search. The rats pitter-patter across the dirty, puddle-covered cement floor. The water runs down the side of pipes, sweating off in rivulets that resemble tiny rivers, eventually falling to the floor. The giggling continues, but you cannot find the source, so you leave.

What you don't see is the gap between the pipe closest to you and the wall. An impossibly tight space, too small for any human, save the smallest of children. Had you noticed this gap, you might have moved closer. The giggling would be more defined there.

Had you noticed that, you might have looked closer. You might have seen the slight movement from something much larger than a rat. A leg shifting in front of an arm, beside a head. A greasy mop of black hair, wet from the surrounding water. You might have seen a pair of blood-shot eyes, peering out at you through the darkness, the pupils dilated to allow them to see in the low light. You might have even caught a flash of light on a tooth as the figure smiled; seen the teeth, brown and rotting, glistening with saliva.

Had you been close enough, you might have heard the giggling coming from the mouth, much quieter than you'd suspect. It would be the cavernous echoing and the odd angles that amplify the sound. The leg moves again, followed by the rest of the body. It unfolds itself from the tiny gap, hanging from the pipe like some bizarre marionette. The figure giggles again as you depart. It watches you vanish, fading into the blackness like a ghost.

With another giggle, the figure pulls itself into the pipes, moving off into the darkness.

_________________
"This is the way the world ends
This is the way the world ends
This is the way the world ends
Not with a bang but a whimper."


-T. S. Eliot


Fri Aug 19, 2005 12:10 pm
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Post 
PART I

1/30/92

The telephone rings at the household of Chris and Stacy Gold. The time is approximately 4:33 in the morning. Chris begins to wake, and finally realizes the noise which has halted his slumber. He wipes the results of a short, yet satisfying sleep out of his eyes, and reaches for the glasses on his nightstand. After the third ring Stacy begins to become annoyed.

Stacy Gold: <beginning to wake> You gonna get that, dear?

Chris Gold: <letting out a yawn> Yeah, I got it. <grabs the phone off the hook> Hello?

Voice: Mr. Chris Gold?

Chris Gold: Yeah, that's me. What's this all about?

Voice: Mr. Gold, I regret to inform you that your father has passed away.

Maybe he didn't hear it right, or maybe he just doesn't want to believe it, but in an instant he is wide awake, and asking for the man on the other side of the phone to repeat the bombshell he had just dropped.

Chris Gold: What? You're joking right? Maybe I just misheard you.

Stacy Gold: <now a bit more awake after catching the tone of her husband's voice> What is it Chris?

Voice: I'm sorry sir, I understand it's not an easy thing to hear, let alone accept. My name is Captain Michael Crowley of the Orange County Police Department. If there is anything I can do, please, don't hesitate to ask.

Chris Gold: How did it happen?

Stacy Gold: What is it?

Chris Gold: <turning his attention to his wife> I'll tell you, please, just let me talk. <now turning back to the phone> What happened?

Voice: We have launched an investigation, we will soon be running some tests. It appeared to be natural causes, but this is standard procedure.

Chris Gold: <without hesitation> I wanna see him!

Voice: Excuse me?

Chris Gold: I need to see him!

Voice: I'm sorry, we really can't do that until the investiagation is finished.

Chris Gold: Then finish it!

Chris Gold slams the phone down, and just looks straight ahead. Standing in his doorway is his young son, Scott

Scott Gold: I heard you talking loud.

Chris Gold: ...

Scott Gold: What's wrong?

---

There was a large turnout for the funeral. The eldest Gold had been a very rich man, both in monetary terms, and in terms of the friends, experiences, and acquaintances he encountered on the way. The funeral was very difficult. Chris and Aleister lost their mother at a very young age, so they had practically been raised by their father and their father alone. Despite being a very rich and busy man, he made sure not to pawn his kids off to some vacant babysitter or housekeeper like his parents had done. He made time, because his children were his life. It took months for the funeral to go through for one reason or another. Chris remained a very busy man, while Aleister seemed lost. Both were in pain, but had different ways of coping with it. Chris immersed himself in his work, while Aleister became a sort of recluse. As hard as the funeral was, it was nothing compared to the legal proceedings afterward.

4/26/92

Gathered in the office of their deceased father, Chris Gold, Aleister Gold, and their respective lawyers, along with the host sat surrounding a very important document. This document would decide what of their father's properties and earnings the two sons would receive. Both sons were in for a surprise.

Host: Okay, so let's get this thing started. Before me I have your father's will. In it he has left us specific instructions as to how to handle his belongings.

The host continues and begins to read as the two brothers conversate.

Chris Gold: <whispering to his brother> This seems to cheap.

Aleister Gold: ...

Chris Gold: Anyway, where have you been Al? This has been a real difficult time for us all, but you really don't have to just burrow into a cave and seal yourself off from society.

Aleister Gold: ...

Chris Gold: Look man, I'm here. I'm here for you. I can't force anything on you, but I don't want it to be this way. It doesn't have to be this way.

Aleister Gold: <remaining focused on the reader> ...

Host: ... and with that, your father decided that his belongings, his money, and his estate be held out until only one of his sons remains.

At that moment everybody just stops in their tracks and fixes their eyes on the reader.

Aleister Gold: Wait ... what?

Host: Your father had written that his belongings stay put until only one of his sons remain. It says it right here.

Aleister Gold: What, he wants us to pit fight for his money, or some sick shit like that? <grabbing his stuff and getting up> I'm out of here. This is a joke. This is a fucking joke!

Chris Gold: Al, hold on bro, just stay put. We can work this out. I'm sure there is a...

Aleister Gold: <interrupting his brother> You've got it all, Chris. You and me ... we've got NOTHING to work out.

And with that he was gone. The meeting commenced with little more known now than before the meeting. Chris, the host, and his lawyer walk outside and exchange pleasantries before finally parting ways. Chris and his lawyer get into his vehicle, while the host gets into a limo. The screen then fades.

OOC: PART II and III follow this, and were posted earlier in this thread.


Fri Aug 19, 2005 1:59 pm
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Joined: Tue Aug 16, 2005 4:01 pm
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Location: The dark
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He absolutely hated this part of the job. Going down in the basement to look for things that should have been upstairs already. It was always him that had to do it. Never Mike or Rob. They always got off easy because they were friends with the head janitor. So it was him, Chris, that had to go down into the dank, smelly basement and find the extra mop bucket. Chris fumbled in the dark a moment before his hand brushed against the light switch. He grimaced as it also brushed against a fat spider, laden with eggs. He flipped the switch.

Chris: "Terriffic."

Nothing happened. Chris flipped the switch a couple more times before giving up and just forging ahead in the dark. Weak light filtered through the floor boards and from other unknown sources, giving a sickly illumination to the main floor. Mostly though, the dark reigned down here. He sighed, annoyed, as his brand new Nikes splashed down in a muddy puddle. Chris squinted as he looked for any signs of the spare mop bucket. His pupils were open as far as they could go, but he still only had several feet of vision before the swimming blackness overtook the world around him. Finally, he shook his head in annoyance.

Chris: "Hell with it."

Chris turned to leave. He stopped suddenly when he heard the giggle. The angles of the pipes prevented him from hearing just where the sound was coming from. It felt like it was everywhere.

Chris: "Very funny guys!"

Another soft giggle, rippling out over the darkness around him. Chris turned in a slow circle, trying to take in everything at once. He briefly spotted a rat, scurrying across the floor, before it vanished into some invisible space, swallowed by the shadows. Chris shivered and turned, walking rapidly toward the stairs.

Chris: "Nothing. It's nothing."

The sudden feeling that overtook him was one of pure panic. Much like the sudden urge one sometimes feels when walking up the stairs. Some primal fear that causes you to run as fast as you can, afraid of what might be reaching for you.

A sudden splash from directly behind him caused Chris to whirl around, his eyes bugging from his head. He could see a puddle, still riplling from something falling into it, but there was nothing there. He looked for another second or two before turning to continue his departure from this wet darkness.

He didn't make it.

He turned, coming face to face with a figure, covered with black, matted hair. No face, Chris noted, his mind flurrying between logic and terror. He could see no face, only a tangled wall of hair. The figure simply stood there, blocking his way.


Chris: "Wh-what do y-you want?

The figure shifted, but only slightly. Sufficient to move a few strands of hair. Two bulging, bloodshot eyes suddenly appeared, boring right into him and, seemingly, right out the other side. Chris opened his mouth to scream as the two eyes stared at him, but no sound came out.

The Husher: "Kitty-cat-- in the --win-dow."

Chris' eyes widened even more as The Husher began to move closer to him. Finally, the wall blocking Chris' throat crumbled and he began to scream. It echoed in the basement, rattling through the pipes. Rats ran from it, hiding in the dark places. And then--

It stopped. The screaming ended abruptly.

There was no one else to see it, but, if there had been, they would have caught the briefest glimpse of a pair of brand new Nikes, now stained with mud and something darker, as they, and whoever was wearing them, were pulled into the shadows.

They also might have heard the giggling.

_________________
"This is the way the world ends
This is the way the world ends
This is the way the world ends
Not with a bang but a whimper."


-T. S. Eliot


Tue Aug 23, 2005 11:23 am
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Location: Somewhere between Sodom and Gomorrah
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"Why did we have to come to Hartfort again??"

Ferdinand was pissed off at Marko, not only did his slightly older brother take the window seat he also snored on the flight and then drooled all over him - if they weren't the keepers of the mask he'd rat him out to his Uncle Victor and be done with it

"What's in Hartford?"

"Hookers?"

"You always say that"

"Well it's true"

"It's also the headquarters of the WWE - strong, vital bodies"

Marko padded the metal briefcase that holds the mask they stole from the museum

"Ahhhhh I see now - it needs the energy"

Marko nods.

"I know a gym where a lot of them hang out - lets go"

**** 10 minutes later at a gym down town ****

"Okay there are a lot of guys out there, working out - if we leave the mask here one of the young, fit, muscular guys will come in and"

"Mua, ha, ha, ha, ha, ha!!"

"Indeed"

They open the suitcase and take out the mask with great reverence and care before placing it on a bench in the locker room. Then they hide and watch, hoping that someone like Triple H will walk in - the juice in that man could feed the mask for a month!

"I hear someone coming" Marko whispered

In walks Fred Ottman - known to some as the Shockmaster, known to some as Typhoon of the Natural Disasters. But with the wave of nostalgia hitting the WWE he was trying to get a spot as

TOOOOOOOT!! TOOOOOOOOOOOT!!

Fred had dusted off his old "Tugboat" outfit and even donned the little sailor hat with a smile.

Image

He was fired up, rumor had it that they were bringing Hogan back with an "old friend" to dominate the tag-team division... and he was an old friend

(Come to me)

Tuggers as he was known to his friends didn't really notice the mask as he sat down and put his hat on the bench next to me

(Closer.... closer)

He pulled out a snickers and ate it quickly, he needed the energy to show off - Jim Ross was coming and the choices of "old friends" was down to him, Hacksaw or Hillbilly Jim and he'd be damned if those two would steal his chance

He didn't even look when he grabbed his hat, he just snatched it off the bench and then held it up

As he looked at it and realized it was a black mask with a weird design he heard all these voices... like a thousand whispers calling to him, telling him to put it on. The whispers got louder and louder as the mask neared his face, turning into a loud roar just as it made contact with the face

Then it was silent as Tugboat tied the mask.

TOOOOOOOOOOOOTT!! TOOOOOOOOOOOOOTT!! Tuggster in the house!!

But instead of going back into the gym to impress everyone he packed his bag and then called the airline booking a ticket to Philadelphia. It would seem that he's got other business now that he wore the mask of Mascara Maligna

DUN! DUN! DUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUN!!

Or would it be more appropriate to go

TOOT! TOOT! TOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOTT!!


Wed Aug 24, 2005 9:01 am
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