Walking out of the building, I was still confused; But a transfer completed none the less. Now I was only left wondering where this path away from Frank would lead me.

Amanojaku

That sounded way too Asian for me. Where the hell was he coming from any way? Any demon I had seen down here so far were all large, European looking archtypes. Long horns, red skin and tiny wings. I think the only Asian I saw was driving a taxi from Styx to the outer walls. I don’t even think he was Asian now, maybe just the skin around his face was really rotten. 

Either way, I was prepared to face the decisions I made. I just needed to get into a new environment.

[Upon leaving the main path leading away from the Ordo Classifcarium, I spotted the woman from the lake. She was wandering aimlessly around, her arms looking to make contact with something. It was almost as if she was blind, praying to not run into a pole or someone else. 

Too embarrassed ]

At the moan split of the mourning star grazing across the horizon of our wretched skies. Deep from the bowels of the Lions Mouth; Constructed along the cliff side realm of our damned ring, same shooting fourth the bastard sun, rejected across a span of aeons of chaotic beginnings. Launched from the Blasphemous arrow of the pearch god-daemon Pazuzu, its flexed arms for zenith projectory arched back its burnt as Icarus wings. 

The shrieking cry of the falling sun shook me awake from a very odd dream. 

It took me back to when I was still, you know, alive. 

There I was. I’m just sitting there in a chair. It seems like a nice chair, I musta been doing pretty well at whatever I was doing. But there is this man, this big, old, burnt out man. His hair long abandoned ship from the mount of his skull, the flowing stab of hair along the sides presented the man as a late night grave keeper. 

I don’t really remember much but he just keep raising his arm and his voice, but he was laying down; in now way causing any indication of a threat to me or himself. 

It was just a really strange dream. I heard some people at the tavern discussing how believed that when you dream in hell, its really not a dream at all. It’s a look at your memories.

In dreams, it’s what you create it; some times good or bad. Memories. Memories only bring up pain and regrets. Poor ideas and idiotic execution. Failure and defeat. 

Stamped and signed in a scrawled, shaking hand writing was written Half before the 3rd Sun Descends. I was getting close to running late to my new reporting. I had better get on my way. 

Appearing out in the street in front of me a marching patrol of lesser spawns waddles down the street. Their deep purple skin dried out and caked along their small builds. The largest of them held a sword a few inches too big for him. He waddled this and there trying to hold the weapon with pride. 

“Excuse me?”

“COMPANY! HALT!” 

The tiny regiment of creeping spawns stopped short, the last barley missing colliding with the 2nd to last in line. 

Dropping the sword and hoping up along the wall next to me and launching at me, the leader deamon spawn had pinned me to the ground. Pushing its wretched smelling face into mine, it breathed in and out; awashing me in rancid stenches and aurmoas. I stunk of the sulfur and mercury, the blaze fringed the edges of my days garments.

“What do you you seek to find, Humaaan.” The demon hacked out the words in a tounge I could understand. Watching its small yet developing frame linger above me, taking a sense of pride in its ability to show up too the Matured Level of spawns that were advising them among the wall tops. 

I grabbed out the paper from my inner clock and pointed to the written creed. The demons quadruples eyes quickly scanned in a crisscrossing patter soaking up every letter, punctuation, sentence structure and within a matter of seconds understood the largely scrolled out sheet. 

Launching itself back, while still having hold of my cloak; the beast stood up and held me while flying upwards towards the walls. The Matured Spawns standing uppon the wall didn’t differ much in appearance from the Lesser spawns down along the road, accept for the fact these troops were allowed to be adorned with armor. The larger of the two Matured Spawns made the Less dwarfed, four times over. 

On the helm of the brute, out protruded to elephant almost guised trunks. The marble looking horns were smithed along into the working of the steel helmet. The edges worked with black holding steel, the larger, more protected material consisted of a polished red rock mined from the lower pits of the gnashing teeth, just past the cryptic Shrine of Mad Laughter.

Tthe secondary demon upon the wall had opted to not carry a helmet. and In stead it held a large shield. The center held a trifecta of skulls. Smashed and shatter the fronts were, but attached and intact none the less. 

“Why you bring us simple human, you too lazy to handle this worm yourself? To think you can carry around that sword with you. HA! I laugh at you.” Barked out the larger of the two.

Enraged the Less Spawned attacked with no remorse and was instantly split in half but the larger Demon. Swiftly it unsheathed a sword larger then what the Lesser and left on the ground down on the streets. Much good a too large sword did for him. 

Within the frenzy, I managed to slip away from them and make my way back to the street. I think I knew my way over to what was written on the scroll.

Mourners Path, Despondent Woods, Stygian Docks. 

Stygian? 

You mean like the Styx? Why do I need to go across the Styx?

After leaving the party in a rush, I tried to make it back to my site of the land. I was just so shaken up from all the nights fun activities. Why did I ever think it was a good idea to take up that invite. What was I thinking? Demons and humans don’t mix. They are the top dogs and we are the scum off their feet. 

I mean, watching lords of legions of hell is fun and all. Having the very center of my mind torn apart and then stitched worked back together by the shaking hands of Dr. Mengele, or at least that’s what it had made my head feel like the next day. I’ve never even had hangovers back before that were this bad. 

All of this just wanted me to distance myself between Frank and I. Don’t get me wrong, he is a fantastic executioner and his skills with his blade are phenomenon. But, it all just felt we were taking this whole buddy-buddy thing a little too fast.

The next morning, after making my way through the stretching line of boredom for our daily caffeine flavored dirt drinks, I made my way out of the dining swamp and headed to the long connecting path way. 

This large bridge, formed the the bones of fallen angels; gathered since before the downfall of Lucifer and his original devout followers. Massive, the bones made a formidable bridge. One would swear they were equivalent to the titian’s of ancient Greece.

It connected the lower parts, where the souls were kept, to the higher reaches. Up top of the cascading cliff sides stood a building of great intimidation. Formed just as Franks home, the reaching stalagmite building protruded off into crooked and jagged angles.  

In front of me loomed the Ordo Classifarium. This ancient building was forged in the first Aeon of hell’s reign. I read it on a little plaque a about a quarter of a mile away from the building. 

For a lack of better term, this building is the main offices. Satan sits at the tallest tower, with his nice throne. The walls bleed and ooze out puss, the minions beckon to his every call. It must be real nice for him there. 

The walk way leading towards the main gateway was paralleled by iron rods. Some were adorned with a rotting carcass. I figured these were just the last remains of a rebellion that happened 3 deca-mellenium ago. I had heard a short mention of that the other night at Frank’s house. 

Somewhat uneasy at the surrounding spits, I tread carefully. Being as a new soul, I wasn’t even sure if we had the proper clearance to come this way. Was there a hot line I was supposed to call?

“Hey!” 

I almost jumped right out of my skin. What the hell just said that? I thought things things were dead and I haven’t  heard the fluttering of wings overhead. Nor had I spotted a damned soul anywhere within the last twenty minutes; but I don’t think the thick fog overlay hurt my vision or anything, either.

“Hey, I’m talking to you. Yeah you, over here. Help me!”

Turning around in a three sixty, there seemed as if one of the bodies impaled on a spike was motioning too me. What I actually saw as I came within clear visibility was some quite comically sad. Starting from the lower left back and having the end splitting out the right side of its lower neck, the twisted body’s head was forced back at a incapacitated angle. As if its neck was snapped, and the head was left to swing and sway in anyway it pleased. 

For reasons of self loathing, I once again felt the need to help. I was willing to hear his case and see what I could do. 

“What can I  help you with? I really don’t have a lot of time, so could you make it quick?”

A high pitched shriek came from the withering bag of bones, I could only think of it as a depressive sigh or laugh. 

“Look at me man, I’m a mess. You gotta do something.”

Looking back and forth, still enshrouded in the fogbreath, I didn’t spot anything to cause suspicion of being caught. 

“Nah man, I don’t think I can be of any help to you. Because coming to think of it, at orientation they said something about No breaking the oath of Hell’s Honor, and boy do I care about protecting that seal I signed.”

“Oh, of course. How could I forget, Hell’s Honor….”

“Yeah, well sorry!” 

And with that I turned and continued to keep making my way towards the large office doors. But from behind me I heard as he called out.

“Come on, man! You can’t do this! At least get me a water or something! I’m dying over here!”

I hurried, forcing my legs to go faster then they ever have. The shrieks from that thing were getting worse and worse, to the point where it must have made someone mad. 

From the thick darkness descended a trio of winged terrors. Armed with halberd’s, the tore limb from torso. Leaving the already impaled creature limbless. The largest of the three demons hovered in front of the culprit and made a very clear statement.

“We come back again, you live your life all over again; but this time as a worm. But I will have Mammon spawn your wretched soul above a nest of feeding birds. And this will continue for all of eternity. Until the gates of heaven are crashed down and the Lord, The Dark One, is back upon his rightful thrown. Do I make myself clear, miscreant?”

With that off the three left and still ever undetected continued onward towards the offices. 

Arranged around a yet to be filled operation table, three doctors conference in a low murmur.

“Do you think that he will be able to do it?” said the first

“Of course he can, he is the only specialist we have on this. If he can’t do it, I’m not sure who else could.” defended the second

“I know, but have you seen his ratio of success to fails?” replied back the first.

“It shouldn’t matter, not at this point. If we don’t take action, the patient is dead for sure.” Chimed in the third doctor. 

The three men stared at eachother, intensity burning within their eyes. Each man understood the gravity of their situation. 

The patient to be had come to these doctors a few months prior to today; in search of a very rare and complicated surgery. After the meeting, the doctors conversed and came to the conclusion none of them had the skills needed to perform what was needed. 

But they all knew of one man, Dr. Karl Todd.

Dr. Todd had been practicing in the field of medicine for the past twenty years, and was one of the most respected doctors of his kind. Dealing mainly with the mess that is other wise known as the brain, he discovered many breakthroughs of science with his work. 

But there was another side to Dr. Todd that is not so favorable. His success rate was at 50%. By placing your life in his hands, you literally tossed a coin of luck. His first ten surgeries all ended in total failure.

The first operation was the most graphic. Having to operate on a twelve year old girl with a clogged arteries from birth, Dr. Todd investigated the reasoning behind her illness. What he came to conclude was that neurons in the brain were sending the wrong signal to certain blood cells; causing them to deposit otherwise un-needed plaques on the innards of her veins. 

What he suggested was a two part operation. First, open up the chest cavity and see the veins for himself. While at the same time, bore out the top half of her skull and implant a regulator chip on the part of the brain that was sending the false signals. 

As he planned, the operation started and the patient’s vitals were all high and mighty. The heart beat pumped at a regular pulse, the breathing was normal, no signs of her being awake. 

“Nurse, can you hand me the scalpel?” Dr. Todd asked

With scalpel in hand, he slowly circled around the top of her skull. Peeling off the skin, little by little; he revealed the child’s skull. With a hole the size of a half dollar carved out, they moved to the next stage of drilling.

Once inside the mind of the child, Dr. Todd started to make mistakes. While moving the scalpel above the brain, as if holding in anticipation, trying to think of what his next move would be; Todd slipped and lacerated the front lobe of the child. 

Pulse of the heart began to quicken. From the skull, blood began to pump out as if on a automated machine. 

*glup glup glup*

“Uh, uh, Doctor? Is everything under control?” nervously the nurse asked.

Locking his blue, cold eyes with that of the nurse; Dr. Todd slowly said “Everything is fine. I need a needle and thread and 5 minutes alone.” Swiftly the nurse ran off and returned with what he asked. Then she ushered the other two attendants out of the room.  

(all i got for now)

Upon entering into Frank’s humble demon abode, I was greeted with the most repulsive of sights. On the table in front of me was the charred body of a impaled Imp. A spear had been shoved in from the back of its neck, pinning it on its knees to the table. The mouth was agape, tongue flopped out and the senses still somewhat kicking. 

The body would twitch and breathe erratically while the demons peeled off skin and flesh and devoured them whole. The smell was the worse part of it. Imagine  a black cauldron that has been sitting in the heat for a week, full of spoiled milk and rotten meat. But then multiply it by about a thousand. 

“You made it alright? Good. We started without you, but there is a open spot over there. Right next to Nybbas.” Frank pointed off to the right side of the table, back in the corner of the room.

The demon, Nybbas he called him, gave me such an odd feeling upon first site. Glued to his face was the most forced and un-genuine smile I had ever seen. It was if his face was permanently stuck in a sinister snicker. His hair was matted together and puffed out in sporadic angles. clumped together and his clothes were somewhat of a joke. He wore what looked like a lime green button up suit, that was two sizes too small. His pants were the made of the flayed faces of those he had tortured, ranging from Asians to Africans to Europeans. It was a multicolored horror. 

As I went to take a seat, the Demon rather quickly became aware of my presence. Turning to me, moving only his head, the demon looked over his shoulder.

“Mmmmm, what do we have here? whoo ho! A human soul! Why, Frank you should have told us we had a special guest tonight. I would have made some special arrangements.” 

Too petrified to answer the question that really wasn’t directed at me in the first place, I continued to watch the writhing Imp on the table. By this time, the Demons had eaten the majority of its flesh, but larges chunks of muscle and tendons clung to the rancid carcass. 

Since I showed up later, the game had already started. Not knowing how to actually play Poker myself, I opted to observe and learn how each demon handled himself. 

After being at Franks for a little over a hour, the conversations around the table really began to loosen up. I’m sure the Demons were just as nervous about having me around as I was being around them. 

Nybbas had started an argument with the demon named Decarabia.

“Hehe, silly Legion master. You think just because you have commanded the damned troops that gives you any more say over me? Hehe whooo ho!”

“Why, you filthy worm! How dare you insult me in such a manner. My thirty deep ranks will merely laugh in your face. You are more a fool and a simpleton, no more a demon then this puny human we have here us.”

“Is that a challenge I hear? Oh hoo, we do love ourselves a challenge.”

The grin got wider, then voice rose an octave. This demon was surely planning something sadistic, I thought. No other way he could have survived this long without having some nasty tricks held deep within his sleeves. 

“What do you suppose we challenge?” Asked Nybbas

By this time, Decarabia was starting to fume with rage. The whites of his eyes had turned into a misty red. He had started to rise up from the table, fist grounding down into the chiseled stone. 

“THIS IS WHAT I SAY WE DO! PROVE TO ME YOU ARE STRONGER THEN THIS HUMAN. SHOW US YOUR POWERS ON SOMEONE YOUR LESSER!”

Quickly, Nybbas rose form his seat and disappeared from the room. By this time, I was had quickly gained back that knotted feeling in my stomach I tried so hard to suppress when I had first shown up. 

But it was at this moment, the party was over. 

One moment I was still sitting at the table, the next I was standing on a floating formation of ancient earth; surrounded by a vast frontier of nothingness.

No lights, no sounds, nothing. 

In front of me, the ground began to stretch out and gained speed rather quickly. It seemed as if it went on for forever. The new path way extended so much into the nothingness, it literally disappeared from my eyes. 

Out of the darkness, the rattling sounds of wooden wheels rolling could be heard. The thundering stomps of multiple beings could be heard as well. The best picture I could muster into my head of what was headed my way was a cage of some sort being dragged by creatures I had never seen.

What my eyes confirmed was the creatures I had never seen. What they brought with them, I was not expecting. 

In front of me, on a cart was a constructed crucifix. The base was attached to the cart, but the arms had been lowered. Making it a sign of blasphemy, But I am not sure who would be offended while down here in hell. 

The cart pushers approached me, in one of the things had a large coiled rope could be seen. My anxiety rose higher and higher, but looking back I am not even sure why I was scared. I’m in hell. I get killed multiple times a day, what the fuck would this matter? 

They picked me up and carried me towards the cart, one of the things that stayed next to the Traveling Cross had done something which lowered down the angle. One thing grabbed my feet while the other mainted control over my top half. 

They brought me in bearing over the cross and forced me down onto it. Hanging there upside down, I felt them tightly wrap the ropes around my legs and my arms. 

“WHAT IS THIS! WHAT IS HAPPENING TO ME! WHY ARE YOU DOING THIS!?” I panicked and released a torrent of worry and fear. 

The next thing I remembered happening was I was back in Frank’s dining room, and the gathered Demons were on the floor dying with laughter. I was hovering upside down in the air, tiny strands of thread were tied around my legs and arms; but I was not actually attached to anything. 

Behind me, I heard the insane giggle of the demon Nybbas. 

“Who has the power now, Decarabia?”

“Alright, Nybbas. I will give you that one. You made us all quite entertained tonight. I still want to see something happen. Let us desecrate this hulking meat bag we have here” Indicating the mostly eaten Imp that was no longer clinging to its tiny thread of life. 

Swiftly, Decarabia snatched up the body and beckoned everyone follow him outside. There the body was placed against a rock. From out of his sheath, the demon pulled out a primordial blade that had slain thousands before and still had many more to come. 

In one motion, Decarabia wound up and released his swing. Decapitated, the head went flying off into a distant direction. 

“Well, that’s the end of that.” Said Frank. 

Last night was, an experience to say the least. 

I arrived to Franks house a little past the time he told me to be there. No one likes to arrive way ahead of schedule, and plus I didn’t want these demon guys to think I was a nerd or anything. I wanna make a good name for myself down here, you know? But it wasn’t all entirely on purpose either.

While I was making my way towards Franks, I had run into a few people that I had known in my previous life. 

The lot of them were standing around the street corner, still wearing the standard clothes you receive upon entrance into the gates of despair. A sack cloth robe with a rope to hold the whole piece together. I buried my face into the leather coat I bought not too long ago, hoping the taller one wouldn’t see me. That plan failed, His eyes lit up like a christmas tree. He stared to slap the arms of his companions and motioned towards me with his hands.

“Dude! No way! So you ended up down here too?”

What sorta way is that to start a conversation while in hell? Obviously I am down here. We are both down here. 

“Yeah man. Crazy, I know? Totally thought it was all just a big joke. Guess not. Hey listen, I need to get going though it was go-“

The one that had spoken up first cut me off, “Nah man, come on! We just got down here.” Sweat poured from his forehead, his face flushed by the heat. “Show us around a bit! I bet its like a never ending party down here! Fuck yeah! WELCOME TO HELL, ha!”

So within that instant I felt compelled to show them around. Damn my contradicting hatred for mankind and innate urges of philanthropy. We were a few miles away from the center hub of souls, but I knew of a few local shops in the Demon Quarter that wouldn’t mind us. 

We were all walking down the street, four of us in total. I stood out from them, my newly obtained clothes with such contrast to these new arrivals. A few passing demons gave as a look of suspicion, like a old woman would eye a group of hoodlums.

Having walked around, showing a few of the more interesting parts of this side of hell, I spotted a chill place to take them too. A head of us sat a squat, limestone formed cave with a few lanterns outside the mouth. The glow of the light cast an odd blue shadow over everything, and the temperature dropped a few degrees once we entered the establishment. 

We sat around the bar, trying to catch up with one another and keep the interactions as polite as possible.

“How do you like it down here?” The question was direct towards me, and the three of them stared intently. Maybe they were hoping I would spill some life saving information or tell them that it really isn’t as bad as they thought it would be.

“It sucks. It’s the same thing every day. It’s no different then real life. This is real life. It’s just hotter.”

They all cracked a smile.

“Still the same old you, I see. Ever cheerful about everything.” 

From the back of the room, we could hear a worn looking old man ranting how the politics of the living world could be considered worse then the realm of the damned and dead. The fellow that had interrupted me earlier commented on how he was becoming aggravated.

“Jesus, I blow up a radio station and kill myself in the process to stop hearing all this babling non sense about Its his fault, no their fault, And what happens? I come to hell, hoping to get away from it all, and we are still talking about this shit! Can’t I catch a fucking break? Might as well just off myself again.”

My tolerance for these people had worn through, and I remembered again why in life I had avoided them like death.

“Yeah, that’s a good thought.” I said to him with a straight face.

Sick of being there, I simply stood up and walked out of the cave. They called out to me, but I let their cries fall onto deaf ears. 

Finding the riverside of the Quarter, I oreinted myself to make it back towards Franks house. I never had walked through the demons quarter this late at night, and the noises that I heard were almost becoming a comfort. The screeching of the lower rings could be heard from where I stood. I later learned that each ring is on a offset time scale. Satan apparently thought it wouldn’t be a good idea to have everyone yelling at once. 

After a good thirty minutes of walking, I came upon the road Frank told me to turn on. 

Decapitators Ave

Catchy. Simple. I liked it. 

Approaching his house, I made out that i was just a hollowed out stalagmite deposit. The tips of it were jagged and cryptic looking. Something out of a old horror movie, I was just waiting for the lighting to crash behind it and the evil bats to fly out. 

The front door was a large, round rock rolled into place and too the left of it was a window chipped out of the thick wall. From inside glowed the flicker of a thousand candles and the deep, murmuring roar of large, pot bellied demons could be heard from within. 

*Knock Knock*

Death like silence feel upon the house, a loud shhhhh could be heard from within as well. 

“Whooo do you think it isss?” Something hissed outloud.

“Fwank, Swome won is hewe to swee you.”

“Shut the fuck up Larry. I told you not to talk like that. You are a fucking demon, act like it!”

The sound of chairs sliding and heavy foot steps came towards the door. Slowly, the round rock moaned until enough room was made for a investigative eye to peak through.

“WHO GOES THERE!”

“Uh hi, is Frank here? He told me to come over tonight and play Poker with you guys.”

“WHO IS THIS FRANK YOU SPEAK OF?”

“Uh, he is a demon about ye high,” I stuck my hand out way above my head trying to help with the description. “He normally carries a rusted machete and has a bull head for a skull. Ring any bells?”

“Haha, I am just fucking with you. I am right here. Sure man, come on in.”

This day started off like any other for Carrie. She rose from her bed in the morning, shuffled across her floors to the kitchen, mingled around the coffee maker as it brewed; and ended her mourning routine with a fair amount of time in the bathroom, preparing herself for the long day ahead of her. 

What took the most time for our Carrie was the issue of her hair. Styled after such long gone heroes like Ms. Page, Carrie prided her vintage pin-up girl look. She stood in the mirror, adjusting tiny details to the curled up bands and flowing back. Her arms were adorned with a multicolored explosion of colors and art. As well as being a admire of the long time fashions of the past, she also found such exquisite beauty in the way of body art. 

Satisfied that her beautification process had been complete, she stepped out of her cramped and claustrophobic bathroom. Making her way towards the garage door, she heard the telephone ring behind her

~Ring~Ring~

“Great, just my luck” She mumbled as she let out a sigh and turned towards the beckoning receiver. 

“Hello?”

“Carrie! Where are you! Get to the shop pronto!”

~Click~

The receiver tone went dead.

With a look of controlled frustration, Carrie gritted back her urge to scream and made her way back to the garage. Opening the door revealed a Cherry Red moped sitting in a otherwise empty, spotless garage. Climbing up the front bumper were black flames, and protruding off the back was a small checkered flag attached to a thin wire. 

“Morning darling,” Carrie remarked to her vehicle. “Ready to go give ‘em hell today?” She asked while mounting the aged machine. As if in response, her two wheeled baby roared to life on the first try. “I know I can always count on you,” she said lovingly as she patted the gas tank. 

Waiting for her docile garage to open, she stood feet spread apart, humming bike between her legs and helmet adorned.  Pulling down the elastic goggles from atop the helmet, Carrie was ready to ride. 

~Put Put Put~

The ancient beast carried away Carrie into the carnivorous red sun rise. Reaching the shop, she stopped. Planting her feet, she killed the engine and propped out the kick stand. Carrie slowly peeled off her goggles, then plopped off her helmet. Having uncovered her head, she swung her hair back and forth quickly to poof her hair back out. With her head angled down towards the ground a bit, she looked her eyes up.

Carrie was met with her boss, worming and dodging between working mechanics and scattered car parts across the shop floor. Approaching her with his arms flailing and lungs exhausted, he took a second to gain his composer and wind. 

“You need to get back there right now. I don’t know whats going on.”

“Take me to it.”

Making their way through the crowded shop floor, Carrie; in her two inch heels towered over everyone, especially her dwarf of a boss. His head only reached the middle of her stomach. 

Lead down a tiny hall, away from the view of everyone else in the shop; the boss stopped and turned to face Carrie. 

“So are you sure you are ready to see this?”

“Chris! For the last time, yes! You have called me five times over the past two days about this. I am here aren’t I? Just show me the damn thing already, I want to see what you are so excited about.”

“Alright, alright. Point proven,” the small man said defensibly, putting up his hands; as if blocking her words. 

Around he turned, sliding a key card through a reader and punched in a quick combination of numbers. Within a matter of seconds the normal way depressed in on itself, revealing a long dark corridor. Stepping into the dark, the floor lit up with each foot forward. Down the two walked until the reach the end of the room, where Chris then clapped in a quick succession. 

With the concussion of a light grenade, the room blasted into view. High watt bulbs mounted at different angles along the ceiling hummed down upon the starting couple. The wall in front of them was adored with every type of weapon imaginable. Ranging from standard military issue assault rifles to the most obscure modified small arms, it was a Black Operation team’s wet dream. 

What sat in the middle of the wall was something that Carrie had never seen in her entire life, or even heard about. Staring wide eyed, mouth agape, she was speechless. Chris turned towards Carrie, grinning from one dumbo ear to the next. 

“See, I told you it. Something to see, eh? Think it was worth the three million I dropped on it?”

“Three million? Chris, you spent three million dollars on me? Aw, you are the best!” Carrie squealed in excitement, and bent down and squeezed the life out of the tiny man. Putting him down, his hair was disheveled and distraught. Carrie then planted a large kiss on the old man’s wrinkled forehead, leaving a fresh mark of her black lipstick. Chris gladfully soaked up the extra attention given to him by Carrie, becoming a slight bit love drunk; leaving him speechless for a brief moment. In that time he, he simply pointed his arm off to the right. Carrie took this as invitation to investigate the wall further.    

Making her way all the way to the far left, she went to work looking up and down the rack; trying to pick out anything she had not seen on a previous trip to Chris’s Shop Towards the middle of the rack sat two pistols she had never seen before. Eying them with curiosity, she picked them up. 

“That there, Cassie, is a two of a kind right there. You will never see anything like them. Refurbished Colt .45’s, taken from a raided drug cartel house not too long ago. Those bastards get some of the best guns around, did you know that?”

“No, I didn’t Chris. What makes them so special though? They look like any other .45 I’ve ever had.”

“Well that is where you would be mistaken miss. Do they feel a bit lighter to you?”

“Yeah, I guess. But what else. I don’t care if the guns lighter, doesn’t help me much when I wanna hit the little fuck.”

“Always the one with practicality, I like that about you. Furthermore on the guns,” Chris cleared his throat, as if too prove a point, “The ends are grooved in such a way that a flash suppressor can be attached. And on top of that, those Ese’s felt the need to get the clip release extra greased up. Fastest release I’ve ever seen to be honest.” 

Carrie stood there with one pistol still in her hand, and quickly tested the release. It came out so fast she wasn’t used to responding, so it clattered to the ground. Carrie bent down at her knees to pick up the fallen clip, and while she did Chris walked behind her towards the new weapon. While walking, he just so happened to keep his eyes directly locked onto the end of his bending over employee. When she moved to stand up, he quickly darted his eyes in the totally opposite direction and began to whistle his favorite show tune to himself. 

“You were just starring at my ass, weren’t you?”

“No, no, I wasn’t. Pssh, I can’t believe you would even think such a thing.”

Carrie just started at the man, holding back a small smile; masking it with the rubbing her teeth inside of a closed mouth. Chris started back with puppy eyes almost on the verge of tears. She then turned towards the wall and picked up the talked about news of the week. 

“Does it work?”

“I think so, I haven’t had a chance to try it out yet though. Would you like to?” 

“Do you even need to ask?”

On this bright morning day, a figure approached a solid wooden door. The ornate design of the door impressed the man, leading him to look in glore.

“Must be a homeowner of vast prominence” the shadowed figure mumbled.

Unwelcomed and uninvited, the man struck with force against the luxurious door. One swift kick, open wide swung the door. 

Past that barrier, before him sat a house of rich wealth and rampant materialism. In front of the man stood a small, doorless entrance. From there, it lead down a narrow hall into an over illuminated room. five walls in total, the angled room formed a unsymmetrical pentagon. From floor to celling, clear glass phased in the suns light. Inside of this showcase of a room, sat case after case; filled with the finest and rarest pottery from around the globe. 

“This man very much enjoys the fine aspects of life!”

Continuing from room to the next, the visitor was affronted by one material extreme to the next. Rooms adorned with expensive antiquities, paintings from the greatest of mankind, rare leather couches tailored in Italy and assembled in the heights of the Alps. Tables littered with diamond encrusted plates, mounted with heaps of uneaten food. 

I should surely love to meet the owner of this house, thought the strange man. 

Deeper into the bowls of the home, the halls became place to display the mans human connections. Large family pictures, collected kin. Each member looking successful within their own rights. Further and further, fewer occupants hung amongst the wall; until finally the man reached the last one of them all. 

Upon what hung, looked a man; faced wrinkled and sunken. Eyes, a window to the soul, bled pain and anguish. The drops at the end of his lips showed a life of much discontent then the average man. Hunched back posture, hinted at a life of much strife, no real prosperity. 

Past the portrait of pain, lead a door way down a twisting, turning lane. At the end of the circuit, sat a swivel chair; red and perfect. Locked in agony, immobilized by grief; alone sat the man. throne to his agony and master of his misery.  

“Hello, Samuel”

A despondent croak moaned from the chair, devoid of the proper oils. Face to face, house intruder to home owner. But Samuel’s face showed a sign of relief, as if he had been expecting this guest all along. 

Barely a faint whisper, “By god, you are real…I know it was soon, but not this early…I, I…I have atonements to be made, bills to pay, and a whole flock of grand children to share my nam-“

Cutting the spacial gap between them, the mysterious man pressed verbally as well, “DO YOU, Samuel? You have a story of your name to share? With your grandchildren? Is it a story worth hearing, do you think they are going to be interested in the life you lead?”

“Well…now, I…I need to tell it to them, for without the story, my name will fade and I shall be another nameless victim to the beautiful tragedy that is life.”

“Then by all means, Share with me this tale. That is if its a story with retelling. It is a story that I would enjoy, right Samuel?” The ambiguous figures tone suggested a hint of irritation.

The seated mans face changed from one of concern to disappointment. He cleared his throat of aging problems, his voice grew in volume. “Now that I think, I have no lessons to leave, just this house full of expensive things. Broken, smashed and tattered memories, as well as my regrets for the life I never had the spirit to lead. 

“Interesting. Very interesting. Well now, if there was a lesson you could leave if you would, please; what would your answer be?” With the pause in each breath, the shadowed man rocked back and forth on his heels. 

“I have just made my penance, I have no life, no insights, no moral complexity to leave in challenge, like those who have preceded me. I lived a life of over filling, under nourishing excess. An existence devoid of substance, and my soul should be judged as such.”

Now standing directly next to the seated man, he was seized up by the arms.

“Chap, since you professed your souls lack of redeeming qualities, I believe it best be time to get on our way.”

And with that, out dragged the strange, shadowy figure a man so petrified and ashamed of life, he had to reason to fight it. 

It all happened on the night of July 12th, 1984. A couple of pals and I were just cruising around town in my dads Trans Am and drinking some beer when we hit that thing. 

Earl screamed “Holy hell!!! What was that?!?!” right into my ear, which then caused me the swerve and slam into the tree. We all got out as quick as we could. We probably looked liked clowns coming out of a little car.
The passenger’s door in the front was clamped shut because of the crash and my side of the car was wedged between itself and a tree. So we all had to get out form the left back seat.

By that time an old lady had come out of her house, all wrapped up in a robe. She looked at Jimmy and asked “Are you boys alright? Should I call the cops?” All Jimmy could get out of his mouth were a few mumbled words and then he pointed behind the little old lady. 

Rising up from behind the old lady was the most hideous, ugliest looking thing I had ever seen. It was about 12 feet tall and covered in slime. The giant thing had 4 arms on both sides of it and two snapping mandibles dripping with spit and mucus. It took one look at the old lady before it ripped her head clean off with one bite.

By that time all four of us had gotten out and we just stared in complete and utter horror as this giant creature thing devoured this little old lady. Randal took a few steps back before he said “Man, screw this! I’m not going to die for nothing!” then he bolted in the direction of the gas station about four miles away.

I looked over at Jimmy and Earl as they got closer to the old lady’s car. “What are you guys doing?” I asked. “Getting the hell out of here!” Earl snapped back. I nodded then ran towards them. Jimmy tried the door but it was locked, he looked towards Earl for support. 

“Break the window!” I screeched. I pulled my sleeve over my fist as I repeatedly slammed it into the tinted glass. Finally it shattered but it had also alerted the giant creature that we were still there. It slowly turned its head towards Jimmy then opened its mouth and let out a deep, unholy growl. The other windows of the car exploded in shards of glass cutting up our faces.
I ripped open the door and threw myself inside while yelling 
“Get in, Get in!” Earl quickly got his door open and got in while Jimmy fumbled around with his lock and handle. After a few seconds of trail and error he had finally gotten the door open and jumped head first into the back seat of the car. But by that time the creature had closed in and was about seven feet away from the car.

It extended with its big long arm and gripped Jimmy by his ankle, not lessening its grip a bit. Earl yelled another drunken yell and I started the car. Quickly I slammed the car into reverse, thus tearing Jimmy out of the back seat. Then I lined the beast up with the car and put the pedal to the metal.

The Oldsmobile’s tires spun in the mud then lurched the car forward into the terror of the night. It threw Jimmy across the old lady’s yard and into a trash can. From all the noise that was being made it finally woke up a man four house’s down. He busted out with his double barreled shotgun at the ready.
“What in the hell are you dumb kids doing!?” the man yelled. I drove around to Jimmy and told him to get in. once he got in we sped away towards the direction Randal. 
In the car radio was an 8-track. Earl looked at it and slowly read “Bruce Cockburn and the Faithful, shiiit man. More like Bruce Idontcare and the Brainwashed.” Earl then pulled out Slayer’s Show No Mercy. “Now this, this is so real music!” We were speeding towards town when we saw Randal on the side of the road. I quickly came to a stop and hopped out. Earl and Jimmy stayed in the car head banging along to Black Magic. As I approached Randal I called his name. No answer, so I called his name again. 

Then that is when I noticed that smell. You know that smell of a dead deer on the side of the road. In the back of Randal’s head was a tree limb about three feet long and half an inch long. It was cracked at one end and fashioned into a spear of sorts. I looked around into the woods around the road and didn’t see a thing. Then I just ran straight towards the car and drove towards the gun shop.

“Where is Randal?” asked Jimmy. “Dead” I said as calm as I could. I saw a black thing fly across the sky so I sped up even more. Jimmy let out a puff of air and leaned back into his seat. After thirty minutes of driving and fear and having Slayer scream even more into the air we had made it to the gun shop. 
Billy Joe, the owner had told me where he hid the key just incase the Reds might just attack. Thank god for paranoid people. As we pulled up I turned off the 8-track and took some nice, long deep breathes. 

“Ok guys, here is the plan. On three we are going to get out and run towards that door.” I said as I pointed to the back door of the gun shop. “After I get the key and unlock the door, we grab as much .22 shells as we can then we each get one ourselves. Sound good?” “Yea sure, whatever.” Earl said. “One…..Two…….THREE!!!!” I kicked open my door and sprinted towards the door. I looked around trying to remember where Billy had told me where he hid the key. When it dawned on me that he said he never locks it. **BAM**The door was kicked open by Jimmy and I. We filed in one by one, each taking a look around. Jimmy was the first to see it. 

“LOOK!!! We could so use that.” He was pointing at a military issue M-60 machine gun that Billy Joe must have special ordered for someone. Jimmy walked up to it and hefted it up on to his shoulders. He cocked it at an angle then snickered “What’cha think ‘bout this?” he asked

“I think that you shoulddd lert a reeal mann hollld that.” Earl slurred. He stumbled up to Jimmy and then ripped it out of his hands. Earl was so drunk by that time the gun dropped straight to the floor with a loud crash. Suddenly a loud thud was heard on the roof. It scared me so much that I jumped back into the wall behind me. Crunch, Crunch, Crunch was heard along the roof. I looked over to Jimmy, pointed at the M-60 then I pointed repeatedly to the ceiling.
Jimmy gave a quick nod then looked around for a belt of ammunition.
He spotted the dirty brass belts in the dark corner of the room. Jimmy scrambled over to them and then brought them over to the gun. “Ok, so do any of you know how to do this?” I asked. “I dun knew.” Earl mumbled. “I’ll just go over and get a shutgin. That there is what I knew how to handleee” He then walked into the front of the store looking for a gun.

Jimmy looked at Earl like he was retarded then he looked at me. “I think I know how to work this. I just watched First Blood last night so I think I can do it.” He slowly with trembling hands opened the clasp and placed the third round into the designated slit. He then closed the clasp and pulled back the primer. It kicked back with a satisfying **plink** “Ha ha, Way to go man. You just saved us!” I yelled while I slapped Jimmy on his back. Earl then came back into the back room with two shotguns strapped to his back and a AR-15 in his hands.
“I think that I’m readyy.” Earl said just before he fell over drunk.

(As much as I think I am going to do for this. I don’t do meth so I can’t really go in detail without sounding like a n00b lol.)

Starless. The nights sky blacked out like the veil of funeral mourners. I remember sitting in the cold, cramped confides of our trench. For miles across the blasted French country side, our trenches stretched. The German high command made it very adamant to our commanding officers; “The fortitude of our nation’s integrity shall be compromised naught, by the fool-heated mistake of poor leadership and undermined control of the natural order of rank,” Or in terms that meant something to your common soldier like myself; long sleepless nights.

Having been on the front end of the war over the past four months, the men in my rifle squad had worked out a pretty manageable system. No longer did we sleep exposed to the elements, only being entrenched a few feet into the side of a trench wall. Out of necessity, our collected mind power came with the idea to make create an earth packed bunker reinforced with fallen cedar donated from the local churches lawn. 

On this particular night inside of our subterranean home, we experienced something unlike ever before. Just recently we had received a new shipment of raw meat. The new recruits kept getting younger and younger, and this one was no exception. We received two kids from the slums of Berlin. The more talkative of the two boys was named Herrick. He was average height, a little below weight so his bones bulged out of his skin and jumped right into your eyes.

Within the first three days of the new recruits being in the unit, very earth shattering news was reveled to the squad. Being from the slums of Berlin, these boys were exposed to some very harsh and cold ideas. One of these being mind altering drugs, made from common house hold items.

“Right-oh chaps; this is what’s going to happen. After we got done mixing this all on up for us, were going to be having a just splendid evening out on the town.” Everyone cracked a smile. It was a mutually shared feeling between the veterans that Herrick was a good add on to the squad. His sense of humor and whit made every member of the squad feel somewhat human again.

Nearing completion, Herrick waved the collection of men to huddle around him. From out of his satchel he brought forth a doctors syringe. The main part of it was comprised of glass, the ends fashioned from light aluminum. He fit his fingers inside of the circular shaped holes and began to draw in the concoction he had finished.

Every man began to roll up their sleeves, taking off their belts and preparing one another’s arm for what was about to happen. Herrick had explained the night before how vital it was to make sure your veins were pumped full of blood, and demonstrated how to slap your fore arm to help the veins pop out.

Standing in a neat row, every man slapping away at their wrist, tightening their belts for optimal insertion. What a sight to see. I am sure the Brass was not expecting these types of actions for the defense of our great nation. 

In the back corner of a dimly light bar, three men sat around a large but flimsy card table. With his back to the wall, the largest of the three men sat in a reclined position. His leather tanned skin blended him into the darkened room. Out of his mouth hung a hand-rolled cigar, the ember pulsing with his breath and the wooden mouth piece chewed to pieces. The mans strange fixation on chewing cigars had puzzled the other two men.

The man to the left of Compadre Cigarello sported a used car sales mans mustache, and a suit to match. Out dated and musty smelling, the brownish yellow plaid jacket stroke a large contrast to the bright green card table. From his head flowed luscious locks that even Medusa would be jealous of. 

The third and final man was entirely out of place compared to his comrades. The balding spot on his for head reflected light that searching planes for survivors could spot. His skin was pale and repulsive compared to those around him. Due to his self conscious tendencies, he constantly scanned the room making sure none were to stare at him. On one such scan, his eyes locked with a woman seated at the bar across the room. She raised her eye brows in a quick secession, as if to signal him. 

“Hey, hey… Hey you guys! Are you seeing this?”

The man pointed out with his hand that was resting on the top of the table.

“You see her, she is giving me some looks over here. What do you think I should do?”

The other two men exploded into laughter. The cigar fell out of the large tanned mans mouth, landing on top of the table and searing a hole through to the plywood. The mustache man spewed the beer from his mouth, leaving white foam around the tips of his whiskers. 

“Mickey, You have got to be shitting me. How drunk are you? Do you really think someone just cat called you across the room?” The man struggled to bring his voice out, still choking his beer. “You are fucking insane if you think some broad just hit on you. Have you looked at yourself? You are fucking ugly piece of shit.”

Mickey sat in silence for a second, gathering his thoughts. What he did next brought a smile to the larger mans face. Placing his hands together, both closed into a fist; Mickey began to rotate his left hand around the right, as if he was operation a crank shaft. Slowly his right middle finger began to erect to full attention. 

“Fuck you Steve.” 

Feeling he had a point to prove, Mickey was about to take on quite the challenge. With that thought in mind, Mickey pushed himself back off the table and walked towards the bar. He steered away from the lady at the bar and walked to the tender. From behind him, he could hear the pestering laughter of his friends.

“Ok, yeah. So this is what I want. Make it quick too bub, because I don’t have all day. Give me two more of your house drafts, a shot of Jose and a shot of Jack. That’d be all.”

The bartender stared at Mickey after his request, continuing to dry out the large lager glass that was within his hands. The two mens eyes found each other, and Mickey’s pupils flared with rage. His jaw clenched and unclenched in a controlling manner, holding back the flood gates of anger. 

Completing the job in his hand, the bartender place the glass on the counter top and turned around. “Sure thing boss, you just hang on.”

Within a minute, the space in front of Mickey filled with his order. Sticking his hands down into his pockets, Mickey quickly pulled out a twenty dollar bill and threw it at the bartender. 

“Here, and keep the fucking change.”

At once, Mickey downed all the alcohol he had purchased. Starting with the two shots, and then finishing off the beers in no time flat; Mickey began to feel the liquid courage flow through his veins.

Over his shoulders, he could still here the occasional snicker from his tables direction. Fuck em, Mickey thought to himself. That was the last moment he could remember without his head hurting. 

~the next morning~

Like the removal of a crucial anchor point, light flooded into the darkened room. Standing next to the drawn curtains with the string still in hand, was a average height woman looking out towards the city in front of her. Behind her was a large bed. It was large enough to accompany two, but most the resting place of one. In the bed was a sleeping Mickey, lost in the vastness of a comforter.

Helios finger poking into his eye had finally awoken Mickey. Cracking open a sandman’s encrusted eye, Mickey looked around him and realized he didn’t want to wake.

Instantly he snapped both eyes open.

In front of him stood a strange woman, while he himself was sleeping in a strange bed. Pushing his mind to think, he tried to remember where he was last night. He could remember being picked up earlier that evening, he remembered the torment he felt from the laughter of his friends; but other then that he didn’t remember a thing. He looked once more again at the woman in front of him, and then it all clicked in his head. 

I must have actually talked to her last night, Mickey thought to himself. Right as he thought that, as if he had spoken it out loud; the women in front of him turned around. He now was able to get a good look at her, and remember it this time. 

Inside his skull, his brain received the neurological messages from his eyes that told him the woman had flowing raven black hair, that stopped just short of her lower back. Wrapped around her was a see through silk robe, slightly revealing her breast. Everything about this women seemed perfect to Mickey. What had he done to deserve this? 

He looked down at his body, and came to realize he was not dressed in his normal sleeping wear. He was in fact, naked. 

“Hi. Now I know this might side a little strange, but, uh, who are you? And where am I?”

His mind reacted with pleasure as he watched the woman cover her mouth and let out a giggle that rivaled the squeal of joy little girls enjoy during their play times as children. 

“Oh Mickey, you are so funny.”

“Oh yeah, you know me. Always joking. But seriously, what is your name? I don’t know what happened last night.”

“You really don’t remember?”

“Not at all. I was so fucked up. Did I talk to you last night?”

Once again Mickey’s mind was pleasured with that soothing giggle. 

“Did you talk to me? I don’t think you didn’t stop talking to me. How else do you supposed you got into my room? But don’t worry, I enjoyed every moment of it” 

A smile flashed across her face, and this started to cause Mickey to blush. He had never revived so much attention from such a beautiful woman. By this time, the woman had come from the window and was slowly crawling up the bed towards him. 

“But since you don’t seem to know whats going on, I’ll help you out. My name is…”

She started to get closer and closer to Mickey. Her hand rested on his thigh, and started to slid up his leg. 

“…Bonnie”