QuakeDisruptor's Stories

Protected

2007-11-28T10:32:22Z

Sven knew this day would come.

He’d been in the game too long to realise that a meeting like the one scheduled for today would certainly mean his demise.

However, he had other plans.

As he walked through the smoky club, he passed unfazed through the army of freaks contorting themselves to the hellish assault of noise unleashed by the DJ.

He made his way to the bar and located the door he had been told to use. The bouncer stood to one side and let him pass without question. This was not good at all.

As he reached the top of the stairs he was greeted by a tough looking yakuza soldier. His boss was waiting in the office at the far end of the corridor, surrounded by his most feared heavies.

The conversation was brief. It only took a few minutes for Nakanishi-san, a shrewd and well-respected crime boss, to deduce that Sven’s loyalties were divided.

Judgement was passed; the traitor must die.

Every gun in the room was unloaded at Sven, who promptly vanished from sight. Invisible. Invincible.

The Pink Lady

2007-03-22T12:18:01Z

A certain Pink Lady had other plans.

It seems she was not at all satisfied with having no choice in her future, and was determined to do something about it.

She couldn’t act now, or he would suspect something. She would wait until the opportune moment and strike.

It turned out that Magnus preferred to eat his apples slowly, cutting the fruit into equal segments, and this fine specimen would be no different.

At home, he positioned Mrs. Pink carefully in the centre of his chopping board.

He presented a sharp knife. Pink Lady knew that her time was short, however, she had no idea how she could escape this desperate situation.

The blade sank effortlessly into her beautiful flesh, her juices spilling from the wound.

In desperation, she put forth more effort than any apple in recorded history and fired a single pip towards Magnus. The pip flew directly into Magnus’ eye, sending him reeling in shock.

As he stumbled, he lost his balance and fell directly onto his knife blade.

Victory.

Afternoon Tea

2007-03-21T08:42:22Z

Dagon liked tea.

He preferred it when it was made with the leaves in a teapot. Teabags just couldn’t compete, no matter what irregular shape they chose to make them.

He liked to pour the hot water slowly into the pot, watching intently as it spread amongst the leaves in the bottom, absorbing the water and infusing it with their exquisite flavour.

He would start with a small amount – just enough to wet all the leaves – then carefully tip and rotate the pot until the water was a deep red colour. Then he’d add more water and apply the lid.

Then came the unbearable wait.

Sometimes he would imagine himself as a tea leaf, swimming in the fragrant ocean surrounded by the embrace of silver.

Total freedom.

After what seemed like an eternity of waiting, he would lift the lid, stir the tea, then complete this holy ritual by pouring the sacred liquid into the finest cup he could locate.

The fact that he always made tea in his murder victims’ house made it even more exquisite.

Harvested

2007-03-20T12:25:58Z

I’m waking up.

Drowsy.

Intense pain.

Freezing cold – bath of ice.

Red. Blood. My blood.

Why?

Mind reeling, searching for clues.

Discovery. Opening. Abdomen. Surgical precision.

Realization. Organs. Gone.

Urban legend – now very real.

Too real.

Fatal.

The Visitor

2007-03-20T11:50:46Z

As the temperature fell, Amy knew that the demon had returned.

She could practically taste the hatred and malice that filled the atmosphere, the heavy sense of dread that chilled her to her core.

Out of the corner of her eye she could see the shadow forming in the doorway. Like a swirling mist resolving itself into human form.

“What do you want?!” She screamed, already wearied by the terrible ordeal she had gone through over the past few days.

A voice whispered, detatched, unearthly laced with spite:

“You know what I want.”

She froze, unseen hands began to traverse her body, the room began to shake. Her head pounded with an intense pain.

Amy blacked out.

Deadly Game

2007-03-20T11:10:09Z

The game show host continued his usual script of catchphrases and mildly risqué humour.

The audience, stimulated by cue-cards held by droids, applauded, laughed and cheered at the appropriate moments.

The contestant was a nervous, mild-mannered man, an accountant, who had been selected from the audience at random, and looked more than uncomfortable with his current situation.

Should he gamble or play safe?

I’d gamble. He could easily double his winnings at this point.

But he didn’t, he played safe, and for his caution he was presented with a challenge.

My challenge.

I descended from my hiding place, high up in the rafters of the studio. Spinning sickeningly on the upright disc I was strapped to.

The challenge was simple, the participant given his weapon. One successful shot and he’d hit the jackpot.

It’s always surprising how accurate a person can be, even when nervous.

Toe

2007-03-20T10:33:27Z

“FOOD!” it bellowed.

Gavin had grown weary of this constant bellowing. Ever since his big toe had begun to evolve, he was constantly having to deal with the endless hassle it was giving him.

When it wasn’t hungry it needed the bathroom, when it didn’t need the bathroom it wanted to sleep.

Can you imagine how awkward it is to have to sit on the bus with your left foot in a cushioned shoe-box?

Sacrifice

2007-03-15T15:08:31Z

Lifting the cover from the pit, Gary reeled from the stench of putrid flesh emanating from the depths below. The horrors he had witnessed up to this point would peal in comparison to what he would find in this murky abyss.

This was certainly the work of diseased minds. The satanic symbols and inscriptions suggested the work of a cult, and Gary had already deduced that at least 15 or 20 people must have been involved in the ritual slaughter he had already chanced upon.

Descending into the darkness, he gagged and retched. The foul odour was beyond imagination.

As he reached the bottom of the ladder, he panicked; his foot had alighted, not on stone or earth, but on something much softer. He tried to tread lightly, but his feet sank further with each step into the slimy, congealed mess that coated the floor, at least a foot deep.

He nervously reached for his torch, and immediately wished he hadn’t.

The Beast

2007-03-15T14:21:03Z

Flames erupted from the dragon’s mouth, blisteringly intense, like the very flames of hell itself.

The dragon’s face contorted in a hideously fiendish manner, it was obvious that it’s cravings for the flesh of humans had not been satisfied.

Claws gleamed, scales glistened, the monster thrashed wildly as though possessed by Satan himself.

The humble knight hugged his shield closer, sweating, fatigued with sheer terror.

“And to think”, the knight mumbled to himself, “I married this woman.”

Brass

2007-03-15T12:19:11Z

The early morning commute used to be a serene affair for Jann. He liked trains. They liked him. The scenery was breathtaking.

But ever since the government introduced that stupid law that citizens should always carry a brass instrument with them at all times, the peaceful journeys had ended.

That man with the french horn two seats behind was really annoying.

Ron's Predicament

2007-03-15T12:03:22Z

The problem was a simple one. Also a deadly one, but simple all the same. Ron had set and armed the bomb, but managed to do so without realising that he had inadvertantly threaded one of the wires through his shoelaces.

His tutor had told him he’d do something like this, but he’d always envisioned swallowing some of the components, not attaching himself to them. So, the only way to get out of this situation alive was to unlace his shoe. Very. Slowly.

He began the task. Carefully. Meticulously. An everyday task became a fight for survival.

Halfway through, he stopped – he’d caught the wire with his hand and it had given the device a jolt.

Nothing happened. He was safe. He continued.

Triumphantly, he removed his shoe. Filled with a sense of achievement, he began to stride towards the door.

As the wire was pulled from the device, the detonation sequence began. Ron had unlaced the wrong shoe.

He waited for the explosion. Nothing happened.

“Good job I used Polenta and not C4” he thought.