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Thread: Trash

  1. #1
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    Trash

    It'd been a long day at work. The stress and stupidity of the day-to-day mundane pulled taught at my last nerve. Five O'clock rolled over in the corner of my peripheral and shot a trio of tingles down my spine. Work was over.

    "I'm out of here," I stated (nearly shouted) at the street contractor across my desk.

    "Excuse me?" he replied with a delicious expression of confusion and shock on his face.

    "Day's over." I grabbed my keys and pushed away from my desk. "You'll have to come back in the morning." My expression was flat. Lifeless.

    "We were in the middle of--!"

    I cut him off.

    "We were in the middle of a business discussion. Business closes at five. Get out." I bent over to pick up my backpack, military grade (the kind you see in the holo vids of the war), when I heard what was most likely his fists on my desk. My body calmly froze in place, fingers pinched around one of the zipper tabs and eyes locked on the dull object within the darkness of the bag.

    "How dare you treat a customer like like this!" He shouted. I had forgot his name, they were all the same to me. Pompous, arrogant, and self-centered ass hats that would sooner slit your throat than extend common courtesy. Quite literally in this part of town.

    Click-Clack!

    I turned around with gun in hand and fingered the safety off. That little red dot that meant business was clear to see from the view opposing the barrel. It certainly shut him up.

    "I believe I asked you to leave." My piercing green gaze drilled holes through his sockets and out the back of his head - much like my bullets would do if he was dense enough to ignore the warning. Luckily (... or unfortunately), he shot his hands up with empty palms and focused all his attention at the steady barrel lined up on his forehead.

    "Go. Now." I barked with a wave of the gun toward the door. His deer in headlight expression failed to register the situation. Either he couldn't process the idea of a threat of violence in this day and age, or he was just as stupid as the general populous and their precious social media.

    CRACK! SHATTER!

    The sound of gunfire was familiar to me, but every time one went off this close without ear plugs, I couldn't help but wince. A soft ringing ensued, followed by the sound of footsteps scrambling to gain traction on the stained and dusty carpet of my office. Glass chimed as fragments continued to break off and splash into the pile in the main lobby. I half expected to hear screams or wide eyes of my co-workers looking through the door. Not today. Perks of being the last one in the building, I suppose.

    [Notification of Law Broken. Police Deployed. Broadcasting Location.]

    The iCom device interlaced with my neural system flashed a warning. Lucky for me, I still wore an older firmware version. Newer models paralyzed offenders on site and dramatically lowered crime since the early 2050's. Updates to the firmware and hardware were free of charge but had... interesting side effects. I opted out of it, just as over 300,000 signed petitioners had done and won the court case to prevent it from being mandatory.

    "Fuck..." I sighed while I lowered the warm muzzle of my firearm. Yep, today was that day.

    I finally snapped.
    Last edited by Lye; 05-05-16 at 08:58 AM.
    "All mortal men possess the capacity to do evil. Some are simply more capable than others."
    - Anonymous


  2. #2
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    I rubbed my face with my free hand. Oddly calm considering what just happened. The back of my skull throbbed with the adrenaline and overwhelming regret that flooded in from the rational side of my brain (left side, or was it right?). I was screwed. As I took another deep, relaxed breath, I heard the exit door slam and the sound of hard braking in the gravel of our parking lot. I smirked.

    "We have a break in and it takes six hours... One bullet and..." I shook my head.

    Well, my life was over. No need for my bag, the gun, my keys... Even though crime was nearly non-existent, the US government decided to adopt a low-tolerance policy - a bandaid solution to overpopulation and budget shortages. Why pay thousands to keep criminals alive when you can just execute them for the price it takes to lop off their heads? Gruesome, right? But cost effective and quote-unquote "humane". With nearly 90% of the US populous outfitted with iComs, there was rarely a need for forensics or a trial. I know they saw what I did, and from my own two eyes too.

    A channel opened in my peripheral. Encrypted and labeled as High Priority.

    "Come outside, slowly, with your hands up! Any unusual behavior will be seen as an act of aggression and will be met with lethal force."

    Lovely. Now the police just FaceTime their warnings to you.

    "I'm coming out," I replied plainly. Then, deliberately and like so many times before, I locked the slide back on my pistol and ejected the unspent round in the chamber. I released the magazine and pushed out all the rounds into a messy pile among the papers on my desk. I set both down, then took a moment for myself.

    Stupid... Yeah, definitely stupid. I let them win. The idiots. I couldn't keep it together and push it to the back. Too much pride, I guess. No regrets, right?

    With a shake of my head, I made for the door. Each footstep carried immense weight, but also felt freeing. I finally did what I wanted. I finally just let it go and did it. It felt good. The walking to face my punishment? That part sucked.

    As I rounded the corner of the entrance, blue and red light leaked in through the glass door. Three squad cars with doors open and armed officers behind each of them waited for me. Six barrels of pistols, shotguns, and tazers aimed at me through the security bars on the outside.

    "Come out slowly! With your hands up!" They commanded both verbally and through their encrypted channel.

    I took a deep breath, opened the door, and walked out onto the steps. Various clicks and shuffles sounded as officers rooted their stances, thumbed off safeties, or loaded rounds into the chamber. Points for enthusiasm and dramatic flare. I raised my arms above my head, expression flat and blank. I wish I could have said my heart beat wildly or I felt a weight on my chest, but I didn't. Considering my likely fate, I was steady as a rock. Well... until two of the officers rushed me, kicked out my legs, and wrenched my arms behind my back. I felt some pain and a little weight on my ribcage then. You know, with a knee on my spine and all...

    "You have a right to remain silent. You have the right to plead guilty. Everything you have seen or done will be used against you in a court of law," they dribbled on as handcuffs clicked around my wrists and they jerked me upright. By now, they severed their broadcast and stuffed me into the back of their squad car.

    "Piece of shit last gen," I heard one mumble before the door slammed shut.

    Last gen. There was that pride again. Not intended as a compliment, but it was certainly better than having a government killswitch in your skull. I mean, if they can turn you into a paraplegic at the push of a button, what's not to say they can pull tight puppet strings, insert new memories, or...

    [Can you read this?]

    "Huh?" My response only mirrored the contorted cocktail of raised eyebrow, tilted head, and half agape mouth. Who would be texting me at this point? I tried to type out a response only to receive a notification in over-dramatic red letters stating: <<Communications Disabled>>. Made sense being in the back of a squad car with handcuffs digging into my skin.

    [Good. Get over to the right side and hug your knees. Hurry.]

    "The fuck?"

    [Now!]
    Last edited by Lye; 05-05-16 at 08:46 AM.
    "All mortal men possess the capacity to do evil. Some are simply more capable than others."
    - Anonymous


  3. #3
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    Lichensith Ulroké
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    Do I trust the creepy text messages? I mean, why not? I'm screwed anyway. Might as well entertain some creepy stalker or bored government employee. So, I shifted over to the right of the bench seat and hugged (more like just bent over - handcuffs and all) my knees.

    Then, nothing?

    I sat there, head as close to between my legs as possible and all I could here was muffled chatter from the outside.

    "He just pulled a gun on me!" It was that prick of a customer. Man, if only I could list a case against this guy. Screaming over cheap parts, threatening to take his business elsewhere when we cater to his every need, and trying to get credits for material he claimed he bought from us but we never purchased in the history of the company. A real scum bag of a person.

    "Subject is detained. Yes. One semi-automatic pistol registered to a Christian Allbrook. One shot fired. No casualties." One of the officers mumbled to an unseen force, likely headquarters. With the iComs, they didn't need laptops or paper. Just a link away from direct upload of video, sound, text, or whatever. The wonders of a brain-machine interface at work.

    "What's that?" Another officer.

    "I have no..."

    A bright light washed over the interior of the squad car. Curiosity lifted my head to look outside, but I was stopped by another unknown message across my field of vision.

    [Stay down.]

    "Turn your vehicle around!" I heard an officer shout. Sounds of guns at the ready shortly followed as one threw his body against the car with a thud. Then, the roar of a diesel engine came to life. Was it one of those freighters that parked out front of our pipe yard? Who would be making a delivery this late in the afternoon?

    The engine throttled with a roar.

    "Failure to comply will result in the use of deadly force!" Again with the threats...

    [Hold on.]

    Hold on? What in the--

    The engine roared to life and began to grow closer, then shifted into second.

    "Fire a warning shot!"

    Are you kidding me?!

    A blast from the door beside me shook the window. Definitely the low roar of a shotgun. However, I still heard the engine as it shifted into third. Wait...

    "Open fire!" Gunshots rattled off like forth of July fireworks. Casings and shells bounced off the window and clattered across the hood. Flashes of gunfire forced shadows to dance and the roar of the diesel engine only seemed to continue. Again, a shift into forth gear.

    "Shit! Get out of the--"

    I jolted, glass rained down, noises blurred into a massive cacophony of metallic carnage. My ears rang, vision blurred, and body (now sprawled out) ached. Especially, my left shoulder. I heard shouting, but couldn't make out the words. Muffled pops of gunfire continued, then fell silent. I tried gain my bearings, but between aches, ringing, and confusion all I could do was moan my discomfort.

    "Come on," I heard then a sharp tug on my arm - the one that already felt like it was broken in three places. I let out an involuntary yell of pain, but it kept pulling until I tumbled to the glass, metal, and wreckage riddled ground.

    "Get up, come on! We have to get you out of here!" I didn't recognize the voice. My eyes couldn't quite make out the face but I did notice the outlines of several mangled uniformed bodies and twisted automobile frames. There was another sharp jerk on my arm then another on the opposite side. Whoever they were, hoisted me up and from one vehicle, they threw me into another. There was no finesse, I felt like a bag of groceries haphazardly dashed into a busy mother's car. Doors shut, light faded, and the car surged forward.

    "Drive."

    Last thing I heard before my body opted for a mandatory power nap.
    Last edited by Lye; 05-09-16 at 09:33 AM.
    "All mortal men possess the capacity to do evil. Some are simply more capable than others."
    - Anonymous


  4. #4
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    Lichensith Ulroké
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    I've always been a vivid dreamer. From post apocalyptic hero stories, to re-living some of the most pure or tortured memories of my past. This time was no different.

    That feeling of freedom carried over as my body tumbled calmly in what seemed an endless sky. It was like falling (or flying), but without fear of hitting the ground. Around me, fire rained down like the old books - an end time. Yet in the blissful blue and white of a serene sky, I held no fear or reserve to the flames that sped past me. I felt warmth, light, and calm.

    Then, as though from nothing, I was joined by what looked like two women. One was fair of skin, golden hair, and blue eyes that one could hide an eternity within. The other, sunkissed with silk strands of black flowing behind her and hazel eyes that could pierce the soul. They both reached out to me, but I could not move. My body felt torn and the sky turned to red. Flames began to rise up from below as towers higher than anything built by man began to speed us by. Entire floors were demolished, vacant, and mangled. What was once endless sky now became a scorched earth of wreckage.

    I struggled, a tightness in my chest as both women reached out to me. I finally felt my arms give, but only one. I had to choose. As though each represented some form of salvation, I began to envision ethereal wings sprout from their backs. I reached out, either would do; the ground was growing closer. I closed my eyes and felt slender fingers entwine with my own.

    Before I could open my eyes, I met the ground.

    "Fuck!" I shouted, jolting awake in a panic, heart racing. My arms and legs would not move, and I was not lying down. The seering pain in my shoulder reassured me this was no longer a dream.

    My eyes quickly adjusted to the dimly lit and damp concrete room I now found myself in. Skeleton framework of what looked like computers and servers outlined the far wall. A tattered leather chair faced me from across an oddly pristine glass desk. Entrances and dark doorways led to places unknown and street tags decorated every barren wall. I flared my nostrils at the unpleasant stench of mildew and stagnant water.

    "What the fu..." I muttered in confusion. I was at work, I pulled a gun, they threw me in the squad car, and then... then...

    I looked down as I tried to recall, my skull splitting and a sharp pain radiating from the back of my neck. That was when I realized I was crudely bound to an aluminum chair. Belts fixed my ankles to the legs, wrists to the arms and two around my torso. The whole array was bolted to the ground, recently too as they still held their metallic hue despite the thick moisture in the air.

    "You're awake." The voice was familiar, but also foreign. Captor? Savior?

    "Where am I? Who're you?" Came the stereotypical response from my own two bloodied lips. I heard the footsteps behind me, but I couldn't turn my head far enough to see. The effort of turning sent a wave of pain from that spot at the back of my neck.

    "A friend, or a foe. That depends on you, really."

    What the fuck was he talking about? Was he with the police? Was this an interrogation? My brain struggled to formulate a response.

    "Christian Allbrook. Born in Chicago, Illinois on December 21st, 2029. Current age, 28 years. Height, 6'2". Weight, 195lbs. Blood type, AB-..."

    What the fuck?

    "Who are you?!" I blurted, violently jerking my body to get a view but shut down from the teeth clenching pain radiating from my injured shoulder.

    "Graduated Skylight High School year 2047 with a 3.8 GPA," the raspy masculine voice trailed on. I heard more footsteps echo from behind. More people. "Graduated Chicago Community College with Associates of Arts in 2049. Fitted with an iCom device on your 21st birthday as a gift from your father..."

    "What do you want from me?"

    Two people walked past me on each side dressed in tattered and dark clothing. One, a tall and well built man with a military crew cut on his dark brown hair. His face scarred from god knows what. The other a curvy, but stern looking woman in slightly cleaner attire. She looked to be dressed in a formal suit with certain elements either neglected by laziness or as a statement. Her long, silky black hair was pulled and draped over one shoulder as she sat at the leather chair behind the desk. She steepled her fingers, nails tipped red, and locked her gaze on me with piercing hazel eyes.

    I raised a brow in confusion. I knew her. My mind lapsed on where. The dream?

    "We've been watching you for a while Christian, but not just you." The voice continued, still out of sight. As he spoke, the guy who looked like he made out with an industrial blender tended to the framework servers along the wall. He fixed ribbon cables to places, and plugged in CAT32 lines that ran along the ground past the chair legs.

    "In 2025, the first brain-machine interface, or B.M.I. was created and successfully integrated into the first human subject. In 2027, the government licensed rights to the technology to implement into their soldiers and advanced interfaces into drones, pilots, and targeting systems. Ten years later, the military patent expired and a commercialized contract was drafted with several of the leading wireless communication companies. In 2040, the first cell phones were released with a device that could connect your phone directly to the user's brain stem at the back of the head. It was crude, riddled with problems, and eventually hospitalized several users from lack of testing."

    "Why are you telling me this?"

    "Shut up and listen," barked the woman from her desk. Her eyes remained locked on me.

    "Class action lawsuits bankrupted most of these companies until a new one emerged in 2045 with the device we now know as iComs. Origin Technologies' iCom device required insertion into the brain stem in a quick outpatient service and was affordable to the masses. In just two years, nearly 90% of the modernized population adopted the iComs in favor of traditional devices. Industries began to evolve, communication, the way we drive our cars, the way we do business, and even medical diagnostic all advanced exponentially. A radical faction emerged during this time, the Purists, who saw iComs and BMIs as a sin. They were also the first to effectively 'hack' into the minds of others via iCom devices and implant thoughts, creating a new terrorism unseen by the United States. In response, Origin Technologies signed a contract with the US government to cease production of their 1.0 models. The 2.0 models were released shortly after. As you know, these were government mandated upgrades until you and 300,000 others signed a petition backed by over 100 million disgruntled citizens. As a result, service was returned to the first generation users, but to much scrutiny."

    There was a pause and the footsteps from behind echoed against the barren walls until the man stood in front of me. Easily in his fifties with peppered hair, but a stature that suggested discipline and leadership. His shaven, but scruffy chin held one scar that carried down his neck and out of sight behind the collar of a black shirt under a black jacket. He looked down on my with a cold, emotionless gaze.

    "You know that the 2.0 models dropped crime drastically. You also know that they can shut you down in a moment's notice by the push of a button. What you don't know, is the United States Government approved a privatized agenda to utilize the 2.0 iCom units to favor federal economy, subtly pacify the masses, and sway public voting through subliminal broadcasting. I was part of the early programming team sanctioned by the US Army to write the coding needed for these devices."

    "You're with the feds? What the fuck is this?! What do I need to know all this for?" I shouted, confused, and frankly feeling more in a fucked up dream than the cold hard reality.

    "You have a certain set of ideals we're looking for. You're tired of the direction the world is taking. Self-interest, vanity, corruption. You despise it." He spoke as he stepped just inches from the base of my bound feet. With hands folded behind his back, he leaned forward and looked me over with a judgmental eye. It felt wrong and I pulled my head from his gaze.

    "Who are you?" I asked again through a snarl. He pulled away and stood straight.

    "In a past life, I was a young adult like yourself. I served several tours abroad, outfitted with the first military grade BMIs. This scar..." He pointed to the one running down his neck. It was then I noticed his arms weren't flesh and bone. While gloved, I could see the mechanical lines and soft whir of servos. "In service of the United States Army. After returning to service, I was reassigned to development where I was outfitted with these."

    He pulled off his glove to reveal the polished gunmetal grey of a synthetic arm. With a flex open and close, I could hear the metal scratch against metal in a tight grip.

    "Back then, I was lucky to be able to wipe my own ass. I majored in programming prior to service and with the help of a few fellow soldiers, I was able to reprogram these prosthetics. They saw my potential and drafted me into their BMI division. What I learned there, I took with me upon honorable discharge. After I heard the mandated release of the 2.0 iCom units and began to see the new reports on the sudden changes to economy, I had my suspicions. I went dark and found this group. The government calls us, The Nameless."
    Last edited by Lye; 05-10-16 at 04:09 PM.
    "All mortal men possess the capacity to do evil. Some are simply more capable than others."
    - Anonymous


  5. #5
    Administrator
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    Name
    Lichensith Ulroké
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    I couldn't help but chuckle.

    "The Nameless?" I repeated with a smile, exposing bloodied teeth. "What a ridiculous name... Or lack there of..."

    "Shut your fucking--!" The woman shouted, hands slammed on her desk and risen from her seat. The gentleman in front of me silenced her with a gesture of his hand. Clearly he held rank.

    "We didn't choose it. We refused to identify with any one name or group."

    "So what do you want with me? Why was I worth bailing out? You terrorists?"

    He grinned.

    "You could say that. You could also say we're the last hope for true freedom. We're an army. We're at war."

    "War? Army? You sound batshit insane."

    "I'm giving you a chance, Christian. To the law, you're already a dead man. The Munitions Recall of 2055 outlawed civilian use and posession of firearms, yet you still carried one." He disappeared from view only to return with my bag. From it, he pulled my 5.7 pistol and loaded the magazine.

    "FN Herstal 5.7. Invented in 1993 by Belgium and proposed to NATO as the new standard of firearms in 1989. Adopted by over 40 nations as the standard issue weaponry. Uncommon in the US, none-the less after the recall." He pointed the muzzle at my face and I felt my stomach flop. Yet, with defiance on my face, I stared straight back at him past the sights.

    "No fear. Defiance. Acceptance. I like that, but you're lucky they didn't shoot you on site." He added before lowering the gun, ejecting the mag, and racking the slide to catch the ejected round mid air.

    "I have a proposal for you," he continued, putting my gun on the glass desk and slumping my bag against its leg. He then propped his weight onto the glass as both he and the woman pierced me with their eyes.

    "All set, sir," the scarred guy commented before standing with the trio. The assumed leader nodded to him, but kept his attention on me.

    "You help us, join our cause, stop the corruption and misuse of BMIs, or..." He tapped to the back of his own head with a gestured nod toward me. "we scramble your memories and dump you on the steps of the nearest precinct."

    "Seems more like an ultimatum to me..." I spat.

    "You're the one who pulled a gun on a civilian. You made the choice to end it all at that moment. So what'll it be?"
    Last edited by Lye; 05-10-16 at 02:25 PM.
    "All mortal men possess the capacity to do evil. Some are simply more capable than others."
    - Anonymous


  6. #6
    Administrator
    EXP: 62,918, Level: 10
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    Lye's Avatar

    Name
    Lichensith Ulroké
    Age
    32
    Race
    Human
    Gender
    Male
    Hair Color
    Platinum
    Eye Color
    Green
    Build
    175lbs -- 6'
    Job
    Grandmaster Assassin

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    He had a point. The moment I felt that tension in the trigger release and the air roar with ignited powder, I signed off on my freedom. Even if I ran, even if I fought, everything I had and knew was gone. So the question remained, do I become a terrorist, or blithering vegetable? Well, I wasn't much a fan of drooling corpse. So...

    "You make a compelling argument," I replied half-heartedly. "Sign me up, Sarge."

    I heard the woman scoff behind me. "This kid pisses me off," she muttered just barely over the hum of the servers.

    "If only it were that easy," replied the leader with a grin. He pushed off the glass table and pointed at his male colleague with a nod.

    I couldn't quite see what was going on behind me, but I heard a keyboard. Older tech, for sure, but it's hard to forget that sound. With it, the fans in the servers speed up. They were starting something.

    "This isn't going to be pleasant," he warned. "But hang in there. It'll be worth it."

    "Sir, we have a proximity alert." The woman's irritated expression calmed despite the gravity of her tone.

    "Already?" His voiced sounded genuinely panicked. "Shit. Hollow, skip the handshake protocols and force entry." The leader gave me a firm look after plucking my gun from the table and reloading the magazine. "Correction, you're going to hate me for this."

    That last phrase became the last thing I could hear. Like a dial tone from the antique days, my skull pounded and rang. Screw trying to see straight, and were it not for the shit they tied me down with, I'd be on the ground squirming like a maggot. But I will admit, I tried my damnest to break free if just to earn a second from the pain. As my vision dimmed and blackened, something spoke to me. Even when I couldn't hear my own thoughts, I heard this.

    "Aegroto dum anima est, spes est."

    And back into the darkness I slipped.
    "All mortal men possess the capacity to do evil. Some are simply more capable than others."
    - Anonymous


  7. #7
    Administrator
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    Name
    Lichensith Ulroké
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    Human
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    You know that feeling, when your dreaming? That feeling that the world is real, but everything has that see-through blanket of lace or sheer over everything. You feel heavy but weightless at the same time, but even with all the abnormality, it feels real?

    I knew I was dreaming, but a part of me didn't want to deny the reality I felt either. I stood in the living room of my shitty apartment. The fan overhead squeaked and clicked as the lopsided blades swayed it side to side. The neighbors were cooking something Hispanic, both smoky and spicy. Caroline, my dog, came around the corner of my bedroom with that same excited look as if I just came home from work. I looked at my hands, turning them over, memorizing the familiar creases in my palms and the scars I earned in junior high shop class.

    "What the...?" I meant to finish with my favorite four letter word, but movement in my narrow ass kitchen forced me to look up. I'm not sure who or what I was looking at. It -- her -- She had a light around her but...

    "Allison?" I heard myself utter. She looked just like her. The long brown hair, the lithe frame, even the freckles across her sun kissed cheeks.

    She came around the corner, her clothes ruffled like perpetually stuck in a breeze. Tight jean shorts hugged her hips and the oversized white shirt fluttered off her chest. That black bra visible just faintly underneath. It was an outfit I hated when she wore it in public, but at home, it was my favorite. She walked up to me and set down an empty plate on the coffee table in front of me. Her rosy lips remained sealed, but she smiled.

    "What're you? I thought you... You're dead." About six years dead, actually. We had a sort of fling in college. She was one of those over seas program students, studying in America. It wasn't uncommon with our economy and tech programs, but she came for music. We met through a friend and dated on and off until she needed to return back home to Czechoslovakia. That flight never made it. They never found the plane.

    Her hands cupped my cheeks and I felt warmth. Oh god did I feel warmth. Six years, I fooled around, sure, but it never compared. This, it felt like that pit of "don't-give-a-fuck" finally mended. I missed her.

    "Chris." Her voice felt like daggers, but I wanted to hear it. I needed to hear it. "Chris, please listen to what I have to tell you."

    Before I could really register my actions, I wrapped myself around her. Her warmth, I didn't want to let it go. Her breath on my neck as her silky hair spilled over my shoulder, the nostalgia was intoxicating.

    "I'm not dead, Chris." Like that, my moment of comfort -- my need for something familiar in this fucked up world, turned sour.

    "What, what are you talking about?" I asked. My arms fell slack, but Allison kept he head pressed into me.

    "I'm not alive either." She spoke.

    "I don't -- this is a dream. You're not --"

    "I am." She pulled back just enough to look up to me with those hazel eyes of hers. I struggled against her, this reality. It all felt so real.

    "Chris, you can't trust them."

    "Who?"

    "Any of them. They're all related. You need to look for the truth on your own."

    "What are you talking about? What is, this is a dream none of this is..."

    "Please Chris. Listen to me."

    Allison held out her hand to me and in it was light. Just a little ball of light, like an LED.

    "Take this. I don't have the answers, but you need to find them. Find me." She urged the light forward, tone urgent. "Please."

    My hand reached out and the moment it touched the light, the world around me fell apart. My body jolted awake, new senses punching me square in the back of the skull with the force of a sledgehammer. Oh god did my body ache. Even more so when it slid and slumped against a speeding car's door.
    "All mortal men possess the capacity to do evil. Some are simply more capable than others."
    - Anonymous


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