Punching War felt wonderful and confusing all at the same time. It was like smacking your sister or hitting your brother; sure it felt good and relieved some stress, but you knew it was wrong.
I didn’t like the fact that hitting him felt wrong.
My punch didn’t knock him 500 feet away and through a building, or miles into the air. It did lift him off his feet and put him on his back, about a foot away. I took this as a good sign; as long as I could knock this guy down, I had a fighting chance.
But if I won the fight with him, what was I going to do then?
War looked up at me like I just told him that there was no Santa. There was genuine hurt in his eyes, mixed with “why?” In the back of my head, I was wondering why too, and did register a little hurt.
But more than hurt there was anger. There was a lot of anger.
War got up and backed away from me. I didn’t move forward, since I was kinda curious if he had something to say about what I had just done. He asked me why I hit him, why would I turn my back on what is, in his words, a glorious post and boon to humanity. I told him that I didn’t ask for this, no one consulted me… I was just told “Here, do this.” I told War that I was happy when he killed me, happy that my horrible life was over. I didn’t have to wake up everyday and continue to hate myself, to feel the disappointment I had become to my family, my friends. I told him that he took the one decision that I had made and that I was happy with, my decision to just stop fighting and die; he took that away from me. And in taking that away, also tells me that I was born to some higher purpose, which was killing people that may have actually been happy in their lives, who did nothing to deserve being wiped out? Fuck you, Steve.
War looked at me wide eyed and mouth agape. He said that he couldn’t believe that I would turn my back on my family. He barely got that sentence out before I moved on him again, plunging my right fist into his gut. He doubled over and I hit him in the side of his head, staggering him. I stayed on him, figuring that I would just continue to hit him until I got tired. But I never got tired. I just kept punching away, dropping War to his knees. I grabbed a fistful of his hair in my left hand, and with my right, just wailed on his face, as fast and hard as I could. I eventually stopped hitting him, mostly because I heard guns being cocked behind me. I let go of his hair and War fell to the ground, unconscious. I looked over to see the General and his soldiers, guns aimed in the direction of War and me, and I just waited. I didn’t know how long they had been standing there, what they may have heard or what they planned to do now. The General had his left arm raised, which I guess is what kept the soldiers from firing on us. After looking at me for a bit, he lowered his arm slowly, and the soldiers lowered their guns.
The General walked over to me, and patted me on the shoulder, just like War had. He told me that I did an excellent job, and that I should be proud. I asked him how much did he see, and he told me that he saw all of it, heard all of it.
He told me that he wanted to talk to me about my future.
I had no desire to talk about my future. I turned away from the general, and started to walk. He was yelling how I would be a secret weapon for our country, could use abilities for the greater good, that my uncle would have wanted this.
That’s when I stopped. I never told anyone about what my uncle said to me in (possible) relation to this… mess that my life quickly became. I looked at the General, accusing him of knowing more than he let on. He just looked at me and smiled…
end part 6
Sunday, May 24, 2009
Tuesday, May 19, 2009
Poetic Interlude
Brad’s Lament
As I watched her walk across the room,
Better I thought that she travel by broom.
Never before had I encountered such a witch,
A good way to describe her would be to call her a bitch.
Always yelling and screaming about this and that,
Oh, how I’d love to silence her with a swing of my bat!
Her horrid eyes always seeking and judging,
Man, with this pipe, would I give her a bludgeoning!
Her fingers long and bony, with nails sharp as razors,
I’d shoot her, but there is a chance that the bullet would only graze her...
Her voice painful and shrill like a nails on glass,
I can’t take any more, to the oven and the gas!!!
She wasn’t always so horrid; I know but it’s true,
My Beulla was a beauty once, believe me I beseech you!
Our marriage was very formal and the turnout was massive,
The guests well behaved, the children in attendance also quite passive.
Our vows we had written, her voice like a song,
When in the nine hells did everything go wrong!?
The first year was bliss the second and third one too,
Then suddenly the wheels fell off the bus, what was I to do?
She was demanding and mean, a tornado of rage and gloom,
I was too weak to leave, the ring I wore sealed my doom.
Perhaps this was a phase? Maybe my darling Beulla would return?
I used to think that often, as per orders the homemade butter I would churn.
Don’t get me wrong, I tried to leave once, but Beulla tracked me down,
The price I paid was a hammer to the knee, and again to my crown!
But I still plan an escape, she can not hold me forever,
My new plan is foolproof, and also a little clever.
I can not tell you now, for Beulla is always listening, her ears ever alert,
And a shortened life is what I would love to avert!
So if a man grinning from ear to ear, in tattered garb you see,
It means you are looking at the one who escaped vile Beulla, that’s right it’s me!!!
But if you hear a cry in the night then know my plan failed,
As I watched her walk across the room,
Better I thought that she travel by broom.
Never before had I encountered such a witch,
A good way to describe her would be to call her a bitch.
Always yelling and screaming about this and that,
Oh, how I’d love to silence her with a swing of my bat!
Her horrid eyes always seeking and judging,
Man, with this pipe, would I give her a bludgeoning!
Her fingers long and bony, with nails sharp as razors,
I’d shoot her, but there is a chance that the bullet would only graze her...
Her voice painful and shrill like a nails on glass,
I can’t take any more, to the oven and the gas!!!
She wasn’t always so horrid; I know but it’s true,
My Beulla was a beauty once, believe me I beseech you!
Our marriage was very formal and the turnout was massive,
The guests well behaved, the children in attendance also quite passive.
Our vows we had written, her voice like a song,
When in the nine hells did everything go wrong!?
The first year was bliss the second and third one too,
Then suddenly the wheels fell off the bus, what was I to do?
She was demanding and mean, a tornado of rage and gloom,
I was too weak to leave, the ring I wore sealed my doom.
Perhaps this was a phase? Maybe my darling Beulla would return?
I used to think that often, as per orders the homemade butter I would churn.
Don’t get me wrong, I tried to leave once, but Beulla tracked me down,
The price I paid was a hammer to the knee, and again to my crown!
But I still plan an escape, she can not hold me forever,
My new plan is foolproof, and also a little clever.
I can not tell you now, for Beulla is always listening, her ears ever alert,
And a shortened life is what I would love to avert!
So if a man grinning from ear to ear, in tattered garb you see,
It means you are looking at the one who escaped vile Beulla, that’s right it’s me!!!
But if you hear a cry in the night then know my plan failed,
And another 40 years will I spend in this marriage, jailed…
Steve Part 5
Even after War finally introduced himself, I still had no idea of what was going on. No, it was that I didn’t want to know what was going on. The only War that I knew of was the music group.
Them and the Horseman of the Apocalypse.
Sadly, I didn’t think that he was going to break out into a version of Cisco Kid, so it had to be the Horseman thing.
His smile faded a bit and he moved towards me, telling me now that as I knew who he was, we can go and find the other two so that they could join us and the four of us, together again can finish our task. The stupid look on my face must have returned, and I didn’t care. Surely, War asked me, you know what role that you have in all of this?
Sad thing was I kinda did. But I wanted him to say it. If he said it, then that meant I wasn’t crazy and that all of this was his fault. It kinda was anyway; if he wouldn’t have killed me in the first place, I would have been just fine. So I lied and told him no, I don’t know what my ‘role’ I supposed to be. I told him how I have no idea what it is that you he expects me to do, or who I am supposed to be. I asked him if I was supposed to just walk along side him, slaughtering innocent people? Was I supposed to be a witness that keep score?
He smiled again, and when he approached me this time I didn’t move away. He put his massive hand on my shoulder and said I was there to lead him and the others (when found) in our task. He told me that I was a force of nature too, and in a way I was the grandest of them all. That without me, there could be no life.
He told me that I was Death.
Ohhh-kay. I was expecting Pestilence for some reason. I used to get sick a lot, and with the allergies and all that… was not expecting to be Death.
I angrily asked War what were my duties as Death? Guide the souls of the dead to the other side? Go and get a cloak and scythe, put that on and walk around looking creepy? War looked me in the eye, and told me no, with a chuckle. He said that my job was to cause death. He said that the Horsemen’s job was to cleanse the world, to remove from it the cancer that was man. He said that we would not need cleanse everyone, just most of the worlds population, so that the planet could properly heal. Those left would be warned that this would happen again, but when was up to the populace. So, I asked, I’m just supposed to start killing and maiming? Wanton destruction that causes loss of life? War roared with laughter, tossing his head back and yelling, “Yes!! That is what you are to do!!! It will be glorious!!!”
He brought his head back from the laughter in time to see my punch coming for his head, to late to be avoided.
end part 5
Them and the Horseman of the Apocalypse.
Sadly, I didn’t think that he was going to break out into a version of Cisco Kid, so it had to be the Horseman thing.
His smile faded a bit and he moved towards me, telling me now that as I knew who he was, we can go and find the other two so that they could join us and the four of us, together again can finish our task. The stupid look on my face must have returned, and I didn’t care. Surely, War asked me, you know what role that you have in all of this?
Sad thing was I kinda did. But I wanted him to say it. If he said it, then that meant I wasn’t crazy and that all of this was his fault. It kinda was anyway; if he wouldn’t have killed me in the first place, I would have been just fine. So I lied and told him no, I don’t know what my ‘role’ I supposed to be. I told him how I have no idea what it is that you he expects me to do, or who I am supposed to be. I asked him if I was supposed to just walk along side him, slaughtering innocent people? Was I supposed to be a witness that keep score?
He smiled again, and when he approached me this time I didn’t move away. He put his massive hand on my shoulder and said I was there to lead him and the others (when found) in our task. He told me that I was a force of nature too, and in a way I was the grandest of them all. That without me, there could be no life.
He told me that I was Death.
Ohhh-kay. I was expecting Pestilence for some reason. I used to get sick a lot, and with the allergies and all that… was not expecting to be Death.
I angrily asked War what were my duties as Death? Guide the souls of the dead to the other side? Go and get a cloak and scythe, put that on and walk around looking creepy? War looked me in the eye, and told me no, with a chuckle. He said that my job was to cause death. He said that the Horsemen’s job was to cleanse the world, to remove from it the cancer that was man. He said that we would not need cleanse everyone, just most of the worlds population, so that the planet could properly heal. Those left would be warned that this would happen again, but when was up to the populace. So, I asked, I’m just supposed to start killing and maiming? Wanton destruction that causes loss of life? War roared with laughter, tossing his head back and yelling, “Yes!! That is what you are to do!!! It will be glorious!!!”
He brought his head back from the laughter in time to see my punch coming for his head, to late to be avoided.
end part 5
Monday, May 11, 2009
Steve - Part 4
A minute ago, I thought that this guy was going to kill me. Funny thing is, when he was running at me, I was ready to fight, and maybe kill him too... sort of. But as he was (still) holding me in this friendly bear hug (frakkin’ embrace), I had to say that I was more than a little confused as to what is going on. I was able to coax him into putting me down, and as he did, I backed away from him, putting a few yards between us. I was still ready to fight (I think…), in the off chance that this was some type of trick, but as he wiped his eyes, with the occasional sound of what was a cross between a laugh and sob leaving his mouth, I didn’t think that it was.
When he finally spoke, he called me “Brother”, and said it with… reverence. He told me that he was sorry for running me through earlier but that was the only way to wake me up.
What the fuck...?
My look of shock and disbelief must have been enough for him, so he explained. He told me that all of this destruction was necessary as he (and I) were forces of nature. We were vital to the circle of life, and if I knew my history, would know this to be a truth.
I must have still had the same look of dumb on my face, so he continued. He told me that he heard the name that the press and military gave him, ‘The Destroyer’, and while that was accurate in the description of what he was doing, this was not his name. He said that like me, he had two names; the one he was born with and his real name. His birth name, he said was Steve. Before he told me what his real name was, I interrupted him, pretty much flipping out.
How am I a part of any of this!? I only have one name, and that is the name that I was born with! How is it you knew that turning me into shish-ke-bob wasn’t going to kill me?! You’re trying to tell me that history is repeating itself, beginning here in the city!? And that it is history repeating that is causing you to trash everything and kill all these people?! ARE YOU KIDDING ME!?
Steve (Steve!?) just continued to smile at me and began to answer my questions. He said that the short answer to most of what I asked was ‘Yes’, except for if he was indeed kidding. As for how he knew who I was, he said that he could just “see” it. After he was awakened (killed and came back) he had the ability to find his ‘family’. He looked for years and when he saw me, knew that he had to awaken me so that we could begin what he called ‘the work’. Since I took longer to wake up, he felt that he should get a jump on things, and started tearing the city up.
What he was saying made no sense. I knew that. He was a nut job, and somehow I’m a nut job too. But my uncle called it. He said that when I died, my life would start or whatever. I thought that dying was an escape; I had always felt that way. That’s why I was so excepting when it happened earlier. And also probably why I was so willing to go against this guy when I came back to life. I never questioned the General about anything, I was just pointed in the direction of the chaos, and went along to do…what exactly? I guess that I thought that maybe he would kill me again, permanently this time. What was wrong with me? Why was I so comfortable with dying? The more I thought about this, the more pissed I got. Steve had killed all these people, caused all of this pain… because that was the way of things? He was no force of nature and neither was I. We were just some kind of weirdos or whatever. I wanted to rush over and throttle this jackass, but in the back of my mind, that idea felt… wrong. Why was I so hesitant to do what was right? Beating him down would be the right thing to do for what he has done...
Wouldn’t it?
He was talking again, pulling me out of my own head. He said that as for the history part, there was a similar incident written about a long time ago. Steve told me that when he I heard his true name, then I would get it, that everything would make sense.
He said that his true name was War.
Huh...
End Part 4
When he finally spoke, he called me “Brother”, and said it with… reverence. He told me that he was sorry for running me through earlier but that was the only way to wake me up.
What the fuck...?
My look of shock and disbelief must have been enough for him, so he explained. He told me that all of this destruction was necessary as he (and I) were forces of nature. We were vital to the circle of life, and if I knew my history, would know this to be a truth.
I must have still had the same look of dumb on my face, so he continued. He told me that he heard the name that the press and military gave him, ‘The Destroyer’, and while that was accurate in the description of what he was doing, this was not his name. He said that like me, he had two names; the one he was born with and his real name. His birth name, he said was Steve. Before he told me what his real name was, I interrupted him, pretty much flipping out.
How am I a part of any of this!? I only have one name, and that is the name that I was born with! How is it you knew that turning me into shish-ke-bob wasn’t going to kill me?! You’re trying to tell me that history is repeating itself, beginning here in the city!? And that it is history repeating that is causing you to trash everything and kill all these people?! ARE YOU KIDDING ME!?
Steve (Steve!?) just continued to smile at me and began to answer my questions. He said that the short answer to most of what I asked was ‘Yes’, except for if he was indeed kidding. As for how he knew who I was, he said that he could just “see” it. After he was awakened (killed and came back) he had the ability to find his ‘family’. He looked for years and when he saw me, knew that he had to awaken me so that we could begin what he called ‘the work’. Since I took longer to wake up, he felt that he should get a jump on things, and started tearing the city up.
What he was saying made no sense. I knew that. He was a nut job, and somehow I’m a nut job too. But my uncle called it. He said that when I died, my life would start or whatever. I thought that dying was an escape; I had always felt that way. That’s why I was so excepting when it happened earlier. And also probably why I was so willing to go against this guy when I came back to life. I never questioned the General about anything, I was just pointed in the direction of the chaos, and went along to do…what exactly? I guess that I thought that maybe he would kill me again, permanently this time. What was wrong with me? Why was I so comfortable with dying? The more I thought about this, the more pissed I got. Steve had killed all these people, caused all of this pain… because that was the way of things? He was no force of nature and neither was I. We were just some kind of weirdos or whatever. I wanted to rush over and throttle this jackass, but in the back of my mind, that idea felt… wrong. Why was I so hesitant to do what was right? Beating him down would be the right thing to do for what he has done...
Wouldn’t it?
He was talking again, pulling me out of my own head. He said that as for the history part, there was a similar incident written about a long time ago. Steve told me that when he I heard his true name, then I would get it, that everything would make sense.
He said that his true name was War.
Huh...
End Part 4
Wednesday, May 6, 2009
Steve - Part 3
I really didn’t know what the hell to do. A guy that had waded through the majority of the U.S. military and local police was about two blocks away from me, and moving slowly in my direction. There was a car in his path, flipped upside down that he just brushed aside like you would move a beaded curtain. Except when he moved that car it was tossed through the front of a Starbucks. He was still stalking his way towards me, and I needed to figure out what I was going to do.
I didn’t know the extent of my gift, except that I came back from being dead. Was I strong too? I decided that I needed to test that before I got here. I walked to the corner and grabbed the pole of a yield sign, and pulled up. It tore from the cement easier than I thought (actually I didn’t think it would come up at all). Great, now I had a weapon, but should I hold onto it, or throw it at him? I pictured myself hurling it at him, putting all of my new-found strength into the throw. Only in my mind, he would catch it, and throw it back at me, skewering me again. Hmm.
I pictured myself instead holding onto my new weapon, and using it like a staff when he got closer. This time, I could imagine him taking it from me and planting the sign in my face. Hmm.
I dropped the yield sign, deciding that I would live longer if I didn’t give the Destroyer any ideas of repeating the previous impalement. But this means I would have to fight him hand to hand. I was a good fighter back in the old days, at least I thought so. I had been in about eleven total fights in my life up to this point, and had won most of them. He just seemed like a lot of rage and noise, so maybe I could finesse him. Yeah I could finesse the guy that just wasted half the city’s population, part of the military and police. God, I must be an idiot to actually be standing here…
Wait a minute. Why the hell was I standing here? Doing this thing won’t bring me…
Crap. He’s running at me now. I braced myself, since I was doing the inner monologue thing I had no time to plan anything else. He was laughing as he ran into me, his massive arms closing around me in a bear hug. I felt him pull it tight as he lifted me off my feet. The wind was forced from my lungs, my arms pinned to my sides. He was going to crush me, and I couldn’t do anything about it. And he knew he was killing me, he thought it was funny he was laughing so hard…
I realized that the bear hug wasn’t getting any tighter. And the laughing wasn’t psycho laughing. It was… joyful.
He was hugging me. Happily. And when I looked down at his face, he was looking up at me, and there were tears in his eyes.
This was so gay…
end part 3
I didn’t know the extent of my gift, except that I came back from being dead. Was I strong too? I decided that I needed to test that before I got here. I walked to the corner and grabbed the pole of a yield sign, and pulled up. It tore from the cement easier than I thought (actually I didn’t think it would come up at all). Great, now I had a weapon, but should I hold onto it, or throw it at him? I pictured myself hurling it at him, putting all of my new-found strength into the throw. Only in my mind, he would catch it, and throw it back at me, skewering me again. Hmm.
I pictured myself instead holding onto my new weapon, and using it like a staff when he got closer. This time, I could imagine him taking it from me and planting the sign in my face. Hmm.
I dropped the yield sign, deciding that I would live longer if I didn’t give the Destroyer any ideas of repeating the previous impalement. But this means I would have to fight him hand to hand. I was a good fighter back in the old days, at least I thought so. I had been in about eleven total fights in my life up to this point, and had won most of them. He just seemed like a lot of rage and noise, so maybe I could finesse him. Yeah I could finesse the guy that just wasted half the city’s population, part of the military and police. God, I must be an idiot to actually be standing here…
Wait a minute. Why the hell was I standing here? Doing this thing won’t bring me…
Crap. He’s running at me now. I braced myself, since I was doing the inner monologue thing I had no time to plan anything else. He was laughing as he ran into me, his massive arms closing around me in a bear hug. I felt him pull it tight as he lifted me off my feet. The wind was forced from my lungs, my arms pinned to my sides. He was going to crush me, and I couldn’t do anything about it. And he knew he was killing me, he thought it was funny he was laughing so hard…
I realized that the bear hug wasn’t getting any tighter. And the laughing wasn’t psycho laughing. It was… joyful.
He was hugging me. Happily. And when I looked down at his face, he was looking up at me, and there were tears in his eyes.
This was so gay…
end part 3
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