"The FKs of the L" Chapter 9, you all thought my story was d

[Sord]

Chapter 1

[spoiler-box]

The lights were dimmed, the noise was loud, and blood was being flung around. It was the usual for the FKL pub. Rena was having her feeding frenzy upon Tact’s blood. The blackest cowboy, Dizzy, was getting drunk and chatting with the bartender Tystys. Ronin was keeping to himself, doodling in a sketch book, occasionally glancing up to see what was going on, but he usually just made a face and went back to drawing. Sord was in a corner of the bar, his back to the wall and sipping a bottle of LIGHTNING. Alex was on the far side of the room from him, drinking bottles of GOD and occasionally striking up conversation. Shligger was throwing Yamatos at the dartboard; Navu was drinking coffee at an exponential rate, Talon somehow managing to inadvertently cause explosions, and Nitro juggling green fire from hand to hand, others just hanging out. By all means, it was a typical day in the bar.

The bar was so busy and loud, no one seemed to notice the screams coming from outside. Even when a gnome ran in with a severed arm, no one paid much attention. He was just a gnome after all, a slave to most and food to others. It wasn’t until a mechanical whinny was heard from outside the bar that anything was brought into question. It was Dizzy’s mechanical horse, and despite his drunken state, Dizzy realized his horse’s distress.

Muttering, Dizzy put down his mug and went out to see what was going on. From inside the bar people could hear Dizzy yell, “SHIT! What the fuck is goin’ on?!” and let loose several gunshots. This drew the attention of the bar’s patrons, and they quickly shuffled outside to see what was going on.

Dizzy was standing out in the street, facing down a large creature the size of a bus. It resembled a rat, but its form was distorted and misshapen. Several bones were sticking out as if they had grown too big, the incisors had grown long, and tumors were laced about its skin. Despite this, there was dense muscle underneath the skin, and this could be seen through patches of missing flesh. The rat’s smell filled the air with the stench of decay.

“You messed with the wrong cowboy, rodent!” Dizzy yelled as he let loose another hail of bullets into the rat’s head and body. The rat let out a loud screech and charged Dizzy. Dizzy dove to the side and landed rolling, barely missing being rammed and trampled.

By this time the rest of FKL’s residents had recovered from the initial shock of the scene. Shligger quickly jumped into battle, throwing Yamatos from inside his white trench coat. Navu began to dash about, quickly shooting his own bullets into the rat’s legs in an attempt to disable it. Rena cut her palms and let the blood ooze into her hands. It hardened into spikes which she then flung at the rat. Nitro summoned large green fireballs and chucked them. Van dashed in as well, his wild hair taking on shapes that slashed and beat on the rat. The rest of the bar merely watched, either not caring about the fight or thinking it was already one sided enough as it was.

The rat screeched as it took a green fireball to the face, and swung its tail around to smack Nitro onto the ground, knocking him out. Despite having its feet pumped with lead by Navu, the rat didn’t slow down. It was in a rage and ignored the pain. It turned to face Van since he was the closest. It lunged and took a bite at Van’s shoulder; it managed to sink its teeth deep into him. Van screamed, and his hair formed a sharp point and stabbed deep into the rat’s eye socket at the same time.

Blood shot out of the rat’s eye socket, and Rena immediately sensed the presence of it. She began to summon it out, pulling the rat’s blood from the wound and into her hands, forming more spikes to throw back at it. The rat screeched, dropping Van from its mouth and raising its head, shaking it in confusion and rage. Shligger took the advantage, and managed to shling a Yamato in its other eye, effectively blinding it. When the rat opened its mouth to scream again, Dizzy quickly shot several bullets down its throat. They burst out the rat’s neck with trails of blood behind them. Navu quickly climbed the rat itself and ran down to its head, and fired all the ammo he could into the rat’s skull.
.
The rat made one last screech and fell, dead. For good measure, Shligger slashed down the rat’s neck, severing its head and ensuring its death. It was quickly realized it wasn’t needed though, as the entire rat burst into open flames. Anyone standing close was knocked back, and quickly retreated to the bar entrance. The entire rat had lit on fire, burning intensely and rapidly. Within moments it was a giant pile of ashes, nothing was left of the rat save the smell of burnt hair in the air.

Tact gathered the knocked out Nitro and Van. He quickly called for Alex, Van was having a seizure of sorts, his mouth foaming and his body shaking violently. Alex teleported to the scene instantly and upon seeing Van’s state immediately began to heal him. He searched the wound for the disease, feeling it’s presence on a microscopic level. He banished any trace he could find, obliterating it from Van’s system. When he was finished he healed the wound itself, but for some reason he could not remove the scar. Alex shrugged, and simply stated “He should be fine now, he’ll just need some rest. I’ll take him to bar’s quiet room,” and Alex picked him up, teleporting with Van back into the bar to do so.

After Tact managed to wake Nitro up from his knocked out state, everyone went back into the bar. Possible theories were discussed on the rat’s origins, but no one could come up with a definite answer. It had burned to the ground; clearly whatever had made it didn’t want anything to be known about it. So after awhile things returned to normal in the bar.

Waiting for awhile, Sord watched the bar liven up again. When everything was back to normal, he quietly slipped into the bar’s corridor and into the quiet room, closing the door behind him silently. On the bed lay Van, but his hair was floating, writhing in the air, the only thing holding it down was Van’s head. It shifted and took on the form of a face, and began to speak in a whisper; it had a hollow sound and a hiss behind it. Like a snake in a long corridor.

“Sord, that was a bit to close for my liking.”

“I don’t particularly care, demon, you’re alive anyways. Alex was on the scene, the chances of Van ever dying were slim as hell. There was no need to worry.”

“Fine, whatever… did you bring me my food?”

Sord reached into his shadow which was cast on the wall. He pulled out a living baby, bound and gagged. He threw it at the hair. The hair formed a large mouth and enveloped the baby, crunching could be heard from the inside.

“Quit eating so loudly,” Sord said in a forced whisper.

“What, I thought stuff like this didn’t bother you Sord?”

“It doesn’t, I want to hear the screams just as much as you do, but we can’t let them hear us out there.”

“Fine… I just better get my freedom from this deal of ours.” the crunching sound died down, and a soft grinding could be heard from within. Sord reached into his suit and pulled out a syringe filled with a clear fluid. He injected the serum into Van’s arm, and then put the syringe back in his suit’s inner breast pocket. He was done here, with nothing else to say Sord slipped back out into the bar unnoticed. He sat down and took a sip from his bottle of LIGHTNING. He smiled. Everything was going smoothly.

[/spoiler-box]



Chapter 2


[spoiler-box]

For the next few days Van remained asleep. He eventually came to, and after eating for the first time in a few days, began to return to normal. It was noticed however that at times he seemed to act a bit odd or out of character. Everyone just guessed it was some side effect of the seizure he had, and the issue wasn’t worth much discussion.

One night Shlig and Van were having discussion, when Sord walked up and made himself a seat.

“’ello guys, what are you two talking about here?” Sord said sarcastically. He knew what they were talking about, and he didn’t like any bit of it. They knew it as well, but none the less Van answered.

“We’re talking about Pokemon.”

“Yes, so I hear. I’ll spare you my hate speech though. I have something to say, actually, I have something to say to you Shlig. I need your help with something.”

Shlig cocked an eyebrow. It was rare that Sord ever asked for help from anyone. There was also the chance he just needed some victims to torture, but it was rare Sord struck out at FKLites.

“And just what is it you need, Sord.” Shligger responded coolly.

“Your arm, so to speak. I need you to shling some Yamatos. I’ve recently begun development on some new weapons. They’re designed to ensure the deaths of those they hit, but in a very painful way. The weapon effect seems to work nice, but I need some input as to the feel of the weapon, what you think of its balance, and so forth.”

Shligger was still unsure, there had to be more to it. “What’s the catch?”

“You’ll have live targets during practice. They will be suspended on meat hooks and poles, moving about. Their screams will be fully audible.”

“So it just another one of your sic-“

“There will also be some legit rare Pokemon for your game in the deal as payment. After slaughtering everyone in a recent high-level top-tier Pokemon Diamond tournament convention, I took the liberty of raiding the DSes of their cartridges. I assure you there are plenty of legits, even ones that aren’t even in the game normally. Limited tournament editions, not even released to the public.”

“That’s tempting…” Shligger mumbled, thinking.

“Ah, just do it Shlig,” Van started to say. “Sord is just going to torture and kill the guys anyways. You might as well take up his offer, since we’ll get something out of it.”

Shlig just smirked, “What’s this “we” business Van? Last time I checked I was doing the work. You have a deal Sord.”

Sord smiled, “Great, looks like Pokemon came to be of some use to me after all. You can come if you want Van; maybe scavenge the cartridges after Shlig is through with them or something.”

Van just grumbled his agreement and got up with Sord and Van. Sord led them to what they thought was a closet, but upon opening the door Van and Shlig saw what was more of a plush and elegant elevator. Puzzled, they stepped in after Sord and the door closed behind them.

“Well guys, welcome to the Wonkavator. It goes up, down, sideways and every other way you can imagine.”

“What the hell… you mean from Willy Wonka and The Chocolate Factory?” Shlig asked.

“Yes”

“How did you get it?”

“I fought off an army of umpa-lumpas dressed like Rambo being led by the Pimp of Candy, the Mad-Hatter Wonka himself.”

“You’re joking!”

“Obviously.”

“…” Shlig decided to quit asking questions, he wasn’t getting anywhere.

“Off we go!” Sord exclaimed as he pushed a button. Metal music began to play over the intercom and everyone could feel the elevator drop, and then accelerate in some direction. Being underground it was hard to tell in just what direction it was moving. The ride seemed to take a few minutes. Judging from the centripetal force it was making turns as well, full loops possibly.

“So why are we going through this, Sord?” Van asked.

“To confuse your senses. The last thing I need is people figuring out where my Tower of Torture is. The name may be cliché as hell, but that won’t stop cops or government officials from busting in should they learn of its whereabouts. Not that there is many of them left anymore, but one man and a bomb can cover a lot of ground.”

Immediately after Sord stopped talking the metal music abruptly quit playing and a soft chime was played. The door opened into a strange, giant room. As the trio walked out their footsteps echoed on the tile floor. Along the far wall was draped a giant curtain. In front of it was a single solitary lever, right in the middle.

“Walk up and pull the lever Shlig, and let the games begin.” Sord said.

Sord smiled as Shlig did so. After it was pulled the clanking of gears and chains could be heard. The curtain was drawn up, and tacky carnival music began to play. As the curtain rose, Shlig’s jaw dropped at what lay behind it.

It was like a shooting gallery at old carnivals. But this one spanned a wall the size of a theatre, and its targets were humans. There were some people up high, hanging by meat-hooks from a chain that was moving from left to right. On the floor were some people on conveyer belts, tied to poles stuck into it. They constantly moved one way then another. Finally there were holes in the ground, and people would pop in and out of them on a poll which was attached to a vertically moving platform below. The people themselves were all badly dressed clowns, wearing ragged jester clothing and horrible makeup that was smeared and running in places. All the red makeup was blood colored.

“Sord, you’re brain is seriously fucked up.” Shlig stated.

“Thanks,” was Sord’s only reply. Two small doors opened on either side of the lever, and a Yamato rose out of each one. The blade was similar to other Yamatos, but had a faint black glow along the edge. The handle was very different though. It curved elegantly, and had the look of a scorpion’s tail. The end was sharp, and looked like it could be used as a weapon as well. The color was dark silver, with what looked to be black lines of onyx running down it as if cracked.

Shlig gave a low whistle, impressed. He picked one up and swung it around a bit, twirled it with his hands, and finally threw it up and down a bit, spinning it. The handle was very cold and smooth. It moved easily in his hands, with little resistance to any motion. A new Yamato raised up out of the door in the ground to replace the one Shlig had picked up.

“Damn fine blades Sord, let’s see how well they fly though,” With that Shligger threw the Yamato at one of the targets on the conveyor belt. The blade landed squarely in the man’s chest, but didn’t make a sound. Even if it had, it wouldn’t have been heard over the scream emitted from the man upon contact. After a short second the man’s skin began to darken, then cracks of light spread across his skin, and he exploded. Where there should have been guts and gore, was merely ash.

Shlig had winced when he heard the scream, he had momentarily forgotten what his targets were while judging the feel of the Yamatos.

“I thought you like the bloody stuff Sord, what’s with the ash?” Van questioned.

“These are weapons, not torture instruments. I figured it would be easier to clean up ash then blood and guts. Let the wind do your work, not like people could trace what was there before either, unlike blood.”

Sord watched Shlig toss Yamatos as the targets. He noticed that while Shlig had winced at the first few kills, he seemed to no longer care. Sord was amused at this, and glad he had chosen Shligger.

“OW!” Shligger yelled, dropping a Yamato to the ground. “Feels like something stabbed my hand or something.” Shlig bent down and picked up the Yamato he had dropped, looking at the handle. It was as smooth as ever, perhaps it was just a hand cramp. Shlig shrugged and continued throwing Yamatos, nailing one target after another. He was starting to feel a bit tired, dizzy even. Something was bugging him as well.

His thoughts swirled in his head. He felt almost drugged. What was it Sord had said… Let the wind clean away the ash… No one could trace it… Agh, why was his head so dizzy?!. Wait… the ash of the rat… and that prick to his hand… Shligger’s eyes opened wide. He slowly turned to face Sord, a pained expression on his face. He managed to mouth the word “Fuck,” before passing out onto the floor.

Within a few seconds Shligger’s body began to go into a seizure like Van’s had.

“Restrain him,” Sord commanded.

Immediately Van’s hair grew in length and wrapped around Shligger, cocooning him. The hair raised Shligger up so he was facing Sord. Sord pulled a syringe out of his breast pocket, putting the needle into a vein in Shligger’s neck and pushed the plunger down, injecting him with the serum.

“So then, another one joins you…” Van spoke, but now it was synched with the voice of his hair. It produced an odd layer of tones, harsh to the ear. Sord glanced at Van, noting that the hair covered his face, taking on what appeared as a silhouette of it. In fact, most of his body was now covered by the hair in a similar fashion. Dense and black, it seemed to writhe with each of Van’s heartbeats.

Shligger quit shaking and foaming at the mouth after a moment, and Sord finally responded. “Yes, and I see Van is completely under your control. Remember however, if I want him awake, I can wake him.”

“This isn’t much of the freedom you promised me Sord. Each day I have to act like this idiot. Miming his behavioral patterns so no one suspects us. I want to eat.”

“And you’ll do just that, once we have enough people on our side. Until then, keep playing Van as a puppet, or else I’ll wake him up and you’ll be out of control. Sure, you won’t be as useful when he is awake, but I can always give him a weapon to make due with. You are not necessary, I merely appreciate what you want to do to people, and as such, out of the sadism in my heart, I allow you to be in control. Don’t think that just because it took so long for me to put him in such a deep sleep so you could take him over so thoroughly well, that I can’t wake him back up in an instant. Waking up is far easier than falling asleep.”

Van’s hair merely grumbled, and Sord pulled out another syringe, and injected Shlig with its serum as well.

“All right, the first serum should have cleaned his system of the preparatory virus. Now this should take over shortly.”

After a few moments Shligger’s eyes fluttered, and he woke up. Van’s hair released Shligger, and he stood on the ground.

“Shligger, replace your current Yamato’s with the ones I have created.” Sord commanded. Shlig did so. While doing this he looked just like Shligger, nothing was different about him. His posture, his movements, his facial gestures, everything was the same.

“If anyone asks, the weapon testing we did here was a success, and nothing else happened.” Sord stated.

“Yeah, yeah, I get you Sord. I won’t say a thing about being under your control. Though could you at least have used a smaller needle? The pricks from those things fucking hurt even after the injection.”

“What the fuck do you think I am, a nurse?” Sord shot back sarcastically.

“Funny, but no, you’re not. You’re the boss now.”

“Damn straight, now everyone back in the Wonkavator.” Shlig finished swapping out his Yamatos, Van’s hair receded back to his head, and the trio walked back into the Wonkavator. Within a few moments they were back in the bar. Shlig and Van went back to talking about Pokemon. Shlig had never gotten his special edition monster, but now he no longer cared, because Sord didn’t want him to care.

Sord smiled. Like taking candy from a baby, Shligger’s will was his. Only a few more now.

[/spoiler-box]

<font size=-1>[ This Message was edited by: Sord on 2007-11-12 13:54 ]</font>

[Sgt_Shligger]

I love it so far, though I didn't even get a saving throw. . .

[Sord]

Discaimer: I don't have much idea where the hell this will end up. I have a very basic plot outline already, but very little of the finer details thought out. This is going to involve nearly every common poster in FKL, and out of those, only the ones who have been around long enough for a clear and concise character to develop based on them. So not everyone will be in here. If you are not happy with that, go cry a river somewhere else, whiny bitch. http://www.pso-world.com/images/phpbb/icons/smiles/icon_evil.gif

Story is subject to procrastination, lack of motivation, distraction, and downright laziness. Rejoice though, for Sord is setting a personal goal to write at least half a chapter a day. Hopefully he won't shirk it in a week's time or less.



<font size=-1>[ This Message was edited by: Sord on 2007-09-17 21:11 ]</font>

[DizzyDi]

tl;dr

NAW I'M JOSHIN YA! Its cool.

[BlackHat]

On 2007-09-17 21:10, Sord wrote:
Discaimer: I don't have much idea where the hell this will end up. I have a very basic plot outline already, but very little of the finer details thought out. This is going to involve nearly every common poster in FKL, and out of those, only the ones who have been around long enough for a clear and concise character to develop based on them. So not everyone will be in here. If you are not happy with that, go cry a river somewhere else, whiny bitch. http://www.pso-world.com/images/phpbb/icons/smiles/icon_evil.gif

Story is subject to procrastination, lack of motivation, distraction, and downright laziness. Rejoice though, for Sord is setting a personal goal to write at least half a chapter a day. Hopefully he won't shirk it in a week's time or less.


Atleast let me make a cameo, kay?

[Sgt_Shligger]

Sord doesn't give into whining though.

[Sord]

I dunno, black hat's an alright guy so far. At first it looked like he was gonna be Envy incarnate, but then he straightened up. I've given him the oppurtunity to give a character via PM.

[Sgt_Shligger]

Fair is fair O;

[Sord]

I stuck nitro in there, and you let him in to your's first even though he was fairly new and made his identity on his own.

[Sgt_Shligger]

True.

I was getting at: "and out of those, only the ones who have been around long enough for a clear and concise character to develop based on them. So not everyone will be in here."

Not sure you'd count him or not (no offense Nitro).

[Sord]

under normal circumstances I wouldn't have put him in there. If he hadn't been in your CYOA, he wouldn't have showed up here.

[Moo2u]

http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v455/Moo2u/Funny%20pics/Moo_marry.jpg

[Sord]

Chapter 3

[spoiler-box]

Ronin doodled in his little sketchbook, ignoring most of the noise around him. It was bothersome at first, but after awhile he learned to tune it out. He was trying to sketch out a few pages of a comic, but he was having trouble. He couldn’t figure out where the plot should go, or if one should even exist. He sighed and put down his pencil.

He glanced around the bar, hoping that someone’s actions would spark a bit of inspiration. A few patrons were taking cover behind some turned over tables in the corner. Rena was up to her usual antics with Tact, which meant blood flying everywhere. For those that would rather not be stained by it, cover behind some tables would have to do.

There was nothing unusual about this; it was the norm for FKL. He would just have to think of something on his own. He saw Sord walking toward him, and watched him take a seat. Sord looked like he was bored, maybe a bit tired.

“Hey Ronin, working on your comic? Actually gotten anywhere this time?” Sord spoke half-heartedly.

Ronin just glanced to the side, seeming a bit nervous. Ronin wasn’t known for talking very much. He usually just expressed what he thought through facial gestures and pictures. If he couldn’t, he kept his lines short and to the point. Though if you managed to get on the right subject, you might have trouble shutting him up.

“I’ll take that as a no then. It figures. Anyways, I’m curious about something. Why exactly do you have that huge calligraphy brush?”

“It’s nothing special, it’s indestructible.”

“How the hell do you survive FKL with just a brush?”

“I have other stuff to.”

“Such as?”

Ronin began to shuffle between the papers on the table. He pulled out a few comic pages and handed them to Sord. Sord glanced quickly through them. They were scribbly, cartoonish drawings of Ronin. A few featured him swinging a brush and yelling things like “Spark buster,” and “Chill blaster.” Sord noted that Ronin always said “buster” or “blaster.” Each time buster was said a ball of energy shot out of the brush, but every time blaster was said it was a beam. Furthermore, there were different elemental forms for both. This included lightning, fire, ice, light, and dark. Another page featured a black bag with a caption saying “No space like hammer space.” Yet another had Ronin drawing a stick figure, which then came to life and started playing with Ronin.

“So in a nutshell, you shoot elemental blasts from a brush, can draw things that come to life, and have a bag that you can pull almost anything out of.”

Ronin nodded, confirming Sord’s summary.

“I suppose you have the stereotypical qualities of being a complete wuss like all other mages?”

Ronin just made another face. It was clearly an unhappy one, and a little taken aback. It made his eyes look a bit beady.

“So that’s a yes.” Sord said flatly.

Ronin just shrugged and waited for Sord to continue talking.

“Anyways, you want to get something to eat? I’m hungry. Lessee, you like all that oriental stuff. How about we go to the Asian themed restaurant across the street. They’re supposed to have some good Yakisoba noodles. Better than the pub’s anyways.”

Ronin’s stomach growled, answering for him. Sord just smirked, and they got up and left the bar, heading across the street. The restaurant was like any other Asian one, decorated with reds and browns, the décor just screaming Zen in your face. It would have been well laid out if it weren’t for the ugly little gnomes milling about and messing up the theme. Fucking gnomes.

Ronin and Sord took a seat at a booth. They each made their orders; Sord just asked for some spicy curry, and Ronin ordered his noodles as expected. They sat and waited silently, after a bit Sord sat up.

“I have to go to the bathroom, I’ll be right back.”

Sord got up out of his booth and headed to the area where the bathrooms were. He never went in though; he stopped at the entrance to the kitchen instead. He looked back at Ronin, who was sitting facing away from him. Sord has specifically chosen a booth where Ronin would be looking away, and was unlikely to bother turning around and looking over his seat.

Sord went into the kitchen. The aromas were strong; it was like walking into a sauna where the water was replaced with teriyaki sauce. Sord quickly glanced around the room, shooting harsh glances at the gnome cooks so they wouldn’t say anything. Finally Sord spotted the Yakisoba noodles cooking.

Walking over to the noodles, he pulled out a small container, no bigger than a tube of lipstick. He held it over the noodles and pushed down on it. The container shot out a spray onto the yakisoba, and after a moment it was cooked into it. Sord quickly hurried back out, dipping his hands in the sink as he went. He walked back to the table, grabbing some napkins and wiping the water off his hands.

“Damn gnomes didn’t put any paper towels in the bathroom. I beat one of them and told them to get on it, should be some in there now. Anyways, food should be done soon.”

Ronin just nodded to what Sord was saying, he suspected nothing. Within a few minutes the food came out and the two ate. Sord watched Ronin carefully, waiting for him to go into a seizure. The preparatory virus would take a little longer to infect, since it was simply being ingested and not directly put into the blood stream.

It was necessary though. It would quickly move through a person’s system, attacking the nerves, the, brain, the liver, and the pancreas. It would kill off several of the cells that inhabited each system, quickly and efficiently. This was what caused the seizures.

Ronin suddenly put his fork down, and raised his hand to his head in pain. He grimaced and then began to shake, his mouth started to foam, and his eyes rolled up in his head. Sord waited a few moments then pulled out a syringe and injected Ronin with it. This second fluid killed off the virus quicker then it could spread. Sord sat there for a moment and waited for Ronin to quit flailing.

This was the cure for the virus that had just ravaged Ronin’s system. It would spread and kill off the virus faster than it could attack Ronin’s system. It was the only way for Sord to kill it off, though healers like Alex could just destroy the virus with a thought. That was why Van had never received this injection.

Once again, Sord pulled out another syringe and injected Ronin with its contents. This was what allowed his whole scheme to work. It was made up of two things. One was actually Sord himself, in a way. He had managed to isolate the virus his system produced that created the effect of SordSyndrome. As everyone knew, SordSyndrom caused seemingly random transformations in people, often several times within a short period, before settling on a form. Sord, however, had eventually gained the ability to control it. He could “tell” the virus what he wanted to be by just thinking of its image. In a sense both Sord and the virus had taken on a mutual parasitic relationship.

After some experiments, Sord found out he could control it even without physically touching it. It was always linked to him, it was him. He realized that if he could get this into someone’s system, he may be able to control them. He started testing on some of his victims, at first to little avail. Their immune system would usually kill it off after a short while, recognizing it was a virus and taking the proper steps to destroy it. He had to figure out a way that it would be accepted.

It had taken some time, but finally Sord found a way. Stem cells could be applied to wounded areas, and they would begin to take on the forms of cells around them and repair the area. After slaughtering a bunch of pregnant teenagers who were going to turn out worthless and poor raising children anyways, he removed their fetuses and grew them in a culture. He spliced the DNA of his virus into the stem cells, so that they would produce them without killing the cell itself. Then it was just a matter of wounding the victim and applying the stem cells.

The wounding was what the preparatory virus did. It attacked all the systems of the body Sord needed control over. The brain for thought control, the nerves for movement, the liver to keep the body from fighting off the virus once produced, and the pancreas for hormonal control. Then the modified stem cells were inserted, and they took over the areas where the preparatory virus had ravaged the host, guided through the body’s system via Sord’s control through the virus DNA spliced into them. They became the cells in the damaged areas, and were accepted by the body without an immune system response. They then began producing the SordSyndrome virus which quickly took over all the body’s functions.

Through the SordSyndrom virus, Sord could control the person, he merely had to think what they wanted them to do and the virus would carry out his will upon their body. Even better, with each passing moment the post-stem cells that produced the SordSyndrom virus would reproduce and would become more and more apart of the person’s system, until they were so abundant that separating them from the cells could possibly kill them. Through this Sord became their queen bee so to speak, all of the person’s talents at his unquestionable command.

This was how he took control over people. This was why Ronin was now sitting up and smiling at him. This was how he would set the stage for entertainment. This is how he would bring war to FKL.

[/spoiler-box]

<font size=-1>[ This Message was edited by: Sord on 2007-11-12 13:55 ]</font>

[Sgt_Shligger]

I like how the chapters have gone so far. . . Even though I dislike being controlled, it could be worse. Recruit on!

[Weeaboolits]

o_O

[DizzyDi]

WHAT A TWIST

[Moo2u]

On 2007-09-18 18:30, M. Night Shyamalan wrote:
WHAT A TWIST

[Para]

lol interesting story so far.

[Atayin]

Ctrl + F Search: "Atayin" (No results found)
Ctrl + F Search: "Zombie Robot Vampiric Ninjas" (No results found)
Ctrl + F Search: "Zombies" (No results found)
Ctrl + F Search: "Robots" (No results found)
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... *dissapointment* http://www.pso-world.com/images/phpbb/icons/smiles/icon_no.gif

[Moo2u]

Good story, but it needs more Moo Men and their weapons of mass percussion.
http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v455/Moo2u/Funny%20pics/MooManGroup.jpg

[Sord]

On 2007-09-19 08:19, Moo2u wrote:
Good story, but it needs more Moo Men and their weapons of mass percussion.
http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v455/Moo2u/Funny%20pics/MooManGroup.jpg


you can play the music during a fight scene http://www.pso-world.com/images/phpbb/icons/smiles/icon_wacko.gif

[Moo2u]

Huzza! http://www.pso-world.com/images/phpbb/icons/smiles/icon_biggrin.gif

[Sord]

Fighting to funk! http://www.pso-world.com/images/phpbb/icons/smiles/icon_wacko.gif

[Sord]

Chapter 4
[spoiler-box]
Sord looked around the pub, looking at each person. He wanted one more member, but he was at odds as to who it should be. He had already decided several people were out of the question.

Alex was definitely the one guy Sord would never welcome on his team. The guy was such a damn optimist, wrapped up in hope that should be feeble at best. Not to mention the general pacifism, though Alex would take the offensive if absolutely needed. His very nature sickened Sord, and he would have nothing to do with Alex joining him. Even if Sord had wanted him on the team, it was hardly doable. Alex would clear himself of both the preparatory virus and the SordSyndrome as soon as it made contact with his body.

He looked again at Rena. She would be a valuable asset if her chaos could be controlled. It was risky though. The fact she had separate spiritual manifestations with separate personalities provided problems. SordSyndrome was a purely physical manifestation. It was unlikely it would carry over to the spirit forms. Even if he took control of the body, it might be possible the spirit could split and blab everything.

Dizzy was a great sharp shooter, but his reliability was in question. It wasn’t that Sord couldn’t control him, but his constant intake of alcohol. Dizzy’s drunken state could help him at times, but more often then not it wound up with him passing out on the floor. That was the last thing Sord needed in the middle of a fight. Once he took control of Dizzy, he could stop him from drinking, but it would be a few days before Sord made his move. Dizzy not drinking would be like The Sheen not eating babies; it just didn’t happen. It would be picked up quickly by anyone and brought into suspect. Dizzy would only be obtainable after the battle started, but Sord didn’t want anymore than four people. So he wasn’t going to be joining.

The bartender Tystys didn’t seem of much use. Aside from owning the bar and running its complex systems, he seemed to have little use in combat. The main advantage of controlling him would be controlling the bar. The Tower already sufficed as a headquarters though, and had plenty of its own defenses. So that seemed like another bad choice.

There was of course Tact. Sord’s party still didn’t have a healer. Outside of healing though, Tact’s combat skills were just as questionable as Tystys. He was proficient with using a shotgun and picking pockets for money that was owed to him from medical fees. Not a real fighter probably, but a healer could come in handy.

At first glance Nitro seemed like a decent choice. Fire was a nice power to have control over. However Nitro’s skills were untested and the extents to his ability were unknown. He was a gamble just like everyone else. Ronin could already do some fire magic anyways, so it’s not like he would be a wholly new edition.

Navu seemed like a decent choice. His insane speed could come of use. No doubt if Sord wanted he could have him zip around the bar and slit people’s throats before they knew what was happening. Though there wasn’t any fun in that. His fighting skills were also unknown though, having not been seen much in actual hand-to-hand combat. Plus if he didn’t get his regular intake of coffee, his power would fade away.

As per Talon, he seemed like someone to leave on the other side. The fact his FKL fox was randomly warping all over the place was a source of annoyance for some. Then there was his knack for unintentionally exploding things. He would serve much better on the enemy’s side, with a higher chance to screw them up.

So that was it then. Out of the remaining candidates, a few were left to choose from. It was time to decide.

A. Nitro, the green flame
B. Navu, the speed demon
C. Tact, the shotgun nurse
------------------------------------------------------------------------
this arose merely because I could see outcomes for all 3 characters, and I honestly can't decide. don't expect me to give choices in future chapters. that's also why this chapter is shorter than the others.
[/spoiler-box]



<font size=-1>[ This Message was edited by: Sord on 2007-11-12 13:57 ]</font>

[Tact]

B. http://www.pso-world.com/images/phpbb/icons/smiles/icon_wacko.gif

<font size=-1>[ This Message was edited by: Tact on 2007-09-20 18:53 ]</font>

[Weeaboolits]

Nayyyyyyyyu!

Actually, I vote c. http://www.pso-world.com/images/phpbb/icons/smiles/icon_wacko.gif

[DizzyDi]

C

[VanHalen]

C

[AlexCraig]

B

[Tact]

The suspense is killing me. http://www.pso-world.com/images/phpbb/icons/smiles/icon_wacko.gif

[Sord]

On 2007-09-20 18:57, Tact wrote:
The suspense is killing me. http://www.pso-world.com/images/phpbb/icons/smiles/icon_wacko.gif


I can do that ;o

[Tact]

No, Sord, I'd rather it be the suspense. http://www.pso-world.com/images/phpbb/icons/smiles/icon_wacko.gif

[Sord]

suit yourself, depending on how things turn out, you may not become evil. I was invited to go hang out at the mall and see a movie with an acquaintance at school. Not sure if I'm going yet. If I am, you may get another day of suspense, because I probably won't write anything today which means more chances of people voting.

[Sgt_Shligger]

I vote B, Navu "deserves" it. . . That is, if you take being one of the three elites Sord has chosen for his evil deeds http://www.pso-world.com/images/phpbb/icons/smiles/icon_wacko.gif [/acceptance]

[Sord]

looks like I'm hanging out with the acquaintance, so no chapter today or if there is one it will be late tonight

[Nitro Vordex]

I'd rather not be evil,but everyone else got like 8 lines of writing.

I only got 4. http://www.pso-world.com/images/phpbb/icons/smiles/icon_disapprove.gif

[Sord]

well, currently I cound 3Bs and 3Cs, so a tie at the moment. As per why you only got four lines, you haven't been around much, and all I know about your character is what is shown in shligg's CYOA, which isn't much. More lack of material on you than anything.

[Tact]

On 2007-09-22 16:45, Nitro_Vordex wrote:
I'd rather not be evil,but everyone else got like 8 lines of writing.

I only got 4. http://www.pso-world.com/images/phpbb/icons/smiles/icon_disapprove.gif



I'd say everyone got 4-5. >_> Upon reading it again, everyone got a fair portion.

[Nitro Vordex]

Meh, I don't think I could be evil, at least not controlled fully, so yeah.

I vote A.

[Sord]

well, since no one else seems inclined to vote and Tact's here to complain about being controlled but navu isn't, Navu gets to join my side. That said, your not getting the chapter until tomorrow.

[Sord]

Chapter 5
[spoiler-box]
Sord looked at the map pinned up in front of him, agitated. It was a map of FKL with red lines scattered all across it. They seem to gather in a few spots, spreading out and then connecting to one another in various places. These were routes Navu had taken throughout FKL, or at least to the best Sord could gather. Tracking a man who moved as fast as a car wasn’t easy.

Sord had been trying to pinpoint where Navu could possibly sleep. Surely with so much caffeine in his system Navu had to stop and crash somewhere. Yet it was looking less and less like that was the case. Either Navu was sleeping in random places, or not sleeping at all. Given the powers of various FKLites already, he was inclined to guess the latter.

Trying to secretly cut off Navu’s caffeine didn’t seem to work either. Sord had once switched the coffee pots around in the bar, so that Tystys would serve Navu decafe. Unfortunately it didn’t work; Navu was so used to the taste of caffeine he immediately recognized that there was none in his coffee. He complained to Tystys and eventually it was realized the pots were in the wrong place and they were moved back to their proper positions.

Trying to hit Navu with a tranquilizer sounded like a good idea until you realized he would be nearly impossible to shoot. Nor could his coffee at the bar be drugged, he could pass out or slow down right there and then everyone would know something was up. Everything kept coming up with flaws. In anger, Sord slammed his fist into a man who had been chained to the wall next to the map. The man had been put there for that purpose. The man’s shout and groans calmed Sord down a bit, and he went back to plotting. There had to be a way.

Then inspiration hit, and Sord face-palmed himself for not figuring out what to do before. It was so damn simple and obvious, one of the oldest tricks in the book. Smiling, Sord looked at the map again, noting what routes Navu traveled most.


* * *

Navu slammed down his 134th cup of coffee. He felt as quick as ever, his thoughts were racing in his head a mile a minute, his hands shaky and twitchy, and everything else looked like it had slowed down. It was good to be in the zone.

Everyone and everything was practically moving at a crawl compared to him. While it was nice to be moving fast it did have its drawbacks. Conversations seemed to take forever, and he had to try and say his words slowly so others could understand him. It was just as bad playing a game, waiting for someone else to finish their turn.

In Navu’s perspective, he was not actually moving fast at all. Everything else was just moving slowly, and his movements to him seemed normal. That shake and twitch of his hands from the massive amounts of caffeine were his only reminder that it was he who was moving fast, and not everyone else moving slow.

There weren’t many people in the bar at this time to talk to or do anything with. He had to get moving though, he couldn’t take just sitting there. He got up and left the bar; beginning to jog at a pace that no one could move at unless they were in a go-cart or something faster. The air was crisp and the sky clear, a nice day by most standards. The sun was shining; it was actually pretty bright out.

So bright in fact he didn’t notice the series of thin, clear, close strings at ankle height above the ground. He only felt them as his foot moved through them, his speed and momentum breaking a few, but they ultimately threw off his balance. He fell to the ground, managing to brace for some of the impact by throwing his arms out, but he still landed with his face in the concrete. He tumbled, rolling for several feet before slamming into something. He wasn’t sure what, but it hurt his back like hell. He was seeing white spots in his vision.

He cursed, physics was a bitch. Moving fast meant your body had more momentum. Which meant wipeouts were much more severe in his case. Whatever he hit he hit hard, and in this case it hurt. He lay there for a moment, his vision clearing up. It didn’t last though, as soon as he could see a bit, something came down on his head. There was a brief moment of intense pain, and then darkness.

Navu lay in the streets, covered in abrasions from his fall. On top of his head was the boot of Sgt. Shligger. Shligger bent down and pulled out a tranquilizer, quickly injecting it into Navu to keep him knocked out. Shligger then hauled the limp Navu into the back of a nearby van and drove off.


* * *

Navu stirred, everything in his vision seemed blurry. Thing were moving fast. His thoughts paused for a moment. That was wrong, why were things moving fast to him? He tried to focus and make out his surroundings. His sight began to come back, and he began to make out faces. Sord was there, Shligger as well. They seemed to be talking about something and moving around. He also realized he must have been lying on his back.

It was too hard to maintain his focus though. He couldn’t keep it up. Finally he closed his eyes, he felt incredibly tired. He wondered for a moment how that was possible, then fell asleep.


* * *

This time when Navu awoke, it was with clarity and a screaming headache. He was sitting in a comfortable chair, his head tilted to the side and down a bit. The first thing he saw was his arm, and the fact an IV was running into it. He glanced up, and saw Sord sitting opposite from him.

“Ah, you’re awake. Welcome to the team Navu. You gave us quite a scare there. My little preparatory virus shot through your system a little to quickly even after you had been tranquilized. You were very close to dieing when we injected you with the cure for it. I had figured it would act quickly, which was why I had Shligger bring you here to inject you, but I didn’t think it would be that fast. All your systems would have suffered irrecoverable damage if it weren’t for my Syndrom.

“Even after I injected it I still had to give you enough tranq to put down an elephant. It was the only way to slow your damaged body down to the point the Syndrom could heal you before your ransacked internal systems did you in. Regardless, you made it through. That IV is just giving you water and caffeine, you should be the living incarnation of speed again soon enough.”

Navu just nodded, it was all true. He knew it to be so, in fact, Sord hadn’t needed to actually say anything at all. Sord could just send the information with a thought, but as usual he was being long winded when he could afford it. Navu belonged to Sord now, and there was nothing he could do about it, he’d have to put up with the annoying monologue.

“Well, could you at least give me an aspirin?” Navu grumbled, already knowing the answer.

“Hell no, I’m not that nice.”

“You’re right, you’re a real fucking bastard.”

“I know Navu, I know.” With that Sord got up and went into another room. Navu just sat there holding his head for awhile until he felt normal again. Eventually he pulled out the IV, got up, and left. There was work Sord wanted done, and Sord wanted Navu to do it. Navu didn’t have a say in the matter.
[/spoiler-box]


<font size=-1>[ This Message was edited by: Sord on 2007-11-12 13:58 ]</font>

[Tact]

Heh, you didn't say thanks to being called a "real fucking bastard?" http://www.pso-world.com/images/phpbb/icons/smiles/icon_wacko.gif

[VanHalen]

In the first part I felt like you were the Grinch http://www.pso-world.com/images/phpbb/icons/smiles/icon_wacko.gif

[Tact]

It also seems pretty hard to have a map of FKL when more of it is being created daily. http://www.pso-world.com/images/phpbb/icons/smiles/icon_wacko.gif

[Sord]

On 2007-09-24 15:11, Tact wrote:
It also seems pretty hard to have a map of FKL when more of it is being created daily. http://www.pso-world.com/images/phpbb/icons/smiles/icon_wacko.gif


I had considered saying "current map of FKL" then explaining it, but decided not to.



<font size=-1>[ This Message was edited by: Sord on 2007-09-24 15:37 ]</font>

[Tact]

I see. Now that I think about it, it's good that I complained about being evil. It would've been so much easier to lure me into a trap. >_>

[Sord]

I was just going to tranq you during your regular walk home to go to bed (since you always leave at around the same time.) Then just move into what is going to happen into the next chapter. That said, all people needed are taken over, it's time to get things started. http://www.pso-world.com/images/phpbb/icons/smiles/icon_evil.gif

[Tact]

On 2007-09-24 15:36, Sord wrote:
I was just going to tranq you during your regular walk home to go to bed (since you always leave at around the same time.)



Heh, that would've been a short, boring chapter. http://www.pso-world.com/images/phpbb/icons/smiles/icon_wacko.gif

[Sord]

On 2007-09-24 15:41, Tact wrote:

On 2007-09-24 15:36, Sord wrote:
I was just going to tranq you during your regular walk home to go to bed (since you always leave at around the same time.)



Heh, that would've been a short, boring chapter. http://www.pso-world.com/images/phpbb/icons/smiles/icon_wacko.gif


no, I would have just gone straight into what is coming up in the next chapter and not split it >_>

[Tact]

I see. I would lockdown the bar or something, but I don't know about the impending doom.

[Sgt_Shligger]

Nice chapter, keep up the good work you fucking bastard http://www.pso-world.com/images/phpbb/icons/smiles/icon_wacko.gif

[Sord]

Chapter 6
[spoiler-box]

Sord sat at his table in the corner, constantly noting the positions of Van, Shligger, Ronin and Navu. Van and Shligger were sitting at a table close to Rena, who was busy bugging Tact. Navu was sitting on a stool next to Dizzy at the bar, talking to TysTys. Ronin was sitting near the entrance, doodling away on some paper.

Sord glanced at his bottle of LIGHTNING, it was about half way gone. He smiled, tipping the bottle up he gulped the rest of the LIGHTNING down. Then he slammed the glass bottle on the edge of the table. Almost everyone looked his way.

As soon as the bottle smashed, Van’s hair lashed out at Rena, wrapping itself around her head, legs and arms. It filled her mouth, choking her and preventing her from saying anything. Shligger pulled one of his special Yamatos out and quickly shoved it through Rena’s chest. Her eyes rolled up and a grimace crossed her face. Despite having hair gagging her you could still hear a muffled noise. Her muted scream as the pain shot through every nerve in her body.

Her skin became an ashen color, and white cracks sprawled out from where the Yamato was lodged in her chest. They covered her body in mere moments and then she burst apart into fine ash dust. She was dead before she could even react. There were no spirits split from her and no magic cast.

Several gunshots also rang out from the direction of the bar. Tystys lay dead on the floor, several bullet holes riddling the surface of his head. Navu was already standing just outside, holding an additional two revolvers he had snatched from Dizzy’s holsters after shooting TysTys.

Van and Shlig quickly hurried out as well, but stood waiting just outside the entrance next to Navu. Everyone was stunned, everything had happened so suddenly and so fast no one quite grasped what had happened. Dizzy looked over the bar counter and swore when he saw the corpse of Tystys.

The bar had fallen into a silence, everyone staring at the three outside the door. Sord backed out from his table, purposely letting the legs of his chair drag on the floor to make noise. He got up and walked to the door, each foot step thudding loudly in the silence. Before exiting the building Sord turned around and looked at everyone. He grinned, they were all paying attention.

“Well well guys, looks like the fun has started. Pity Rena had to go, but she would have been too much of a threat if she would have gone against me and I didn’t have the upper hand.”

Alex stood up, banging his fist on the table, “What the hell have you done Sord?!”

“Really Alex, that should be quite clear, I killed Rena and Tystys, I suppose if you act soon you can save Tystys life with your healing. Rena’s a goner though; your healing prowess is formidable but not that great. Besides, I would be much more worried about what I’m going to do rather then what I just did.”

“And just what are you going to do?” Alex shot back.

“Well, I’m certainly not going to sit here and monologue it all day until you guys snap out of your shock. So I’ll give you the short version.” Sord motioned to his minions. “These guys are all under my control. We will be trying to kill you. Defend or fight backs as you see fit. Have a bad day!”

Sord stepped backwards out the door, and Ronin quickly got up out of his chair and followed. Ronin turned around, swiping his big calligraphy brush from the top of the door to the bottom several times. Solid iron bars were drawn in the air, sealing off the doorway.

Ronin backed up from the doorway, then swirled his brush in a tight circle, pointing it at the front of the Pub.

“Flame blaster!”

An orange tongue of fire shout out near the end of the brush in a constant line. The flame took to the dry wooden walls of the Pub; quickly spreading along the front as Ronin moved his beam of fire back and forth, covering it like a exterminator spraying for an insect infestation. The beam died out when most of the bar’s front wall was in roaring flames.

Sord looked at each of his minions one more time, and then gave the mental command to scatter until he needed them. Each one of them ran off in a different direction, and Sord walked calmly into the shadows of an ally.


* * *

Inside, the bar was chaos. As soon as Ronin started to hose the bar with fire everyone snapped out of their shock. A few broke some windows and leapt out, others began to grab large pitchers of water and throw it at the flaming wall.

It wasn’t necessary though, Alex knew the simple answer. He ran over to the bar, jumping over the counter to Tystys corpse. Alex quickly began to heal the holes in TysTys head, and then bring him back to life. In a few seconds Tystys eye’s open and he shot straight up.

“What the fuck just happened?! And what is that smell…” Tystys scrambled to his feet to see the front wall of his precious Pub in flames”

“Who’s the little shit that lit my Bar on fire this time. I’ll fucking kill the bitch!”

While yelling Tystys made a motion with his arms, and a semi-transparent computer screen and keyboard appeared before him. He pressed some keys and suddenly the fired died out, and then the wall began to heal. The black scars of the flames faded away until the wood looked just as it had before.

“Once again, who the fuck was trying to burn down my bar? It’s that bitch Rena again, isn’t it? I’m gonna-“

“Rena is dead,” Alex said firmly. He pointed to the pile of ash on the floor. It had been kicked and scattered in the rush to put out the fire. Tact was standing there, staring at the pile of ashes. At first he looked a bit taken aback, but then he just shrugged and sat back down. No more torture for him, he wasn’t going to complain even if he didn’t approve of the act.

“Well, at least she won’t fuck up my bar anymore.” Alex shot Tystys an accusing glance, but Tystys just shrugged it off.

“I suppose those bullets penetrated your head a little to fast for you to realize you were dead to,”

“What the- I was shot? By who?”

“Navu, under Sord’s control apparently.”

“Sord?! I’ll fucking kill that sadistic mother fucker! I’ll-“

“Damn it Tys! Shut up, we know already!” Alex shouted, and then gritted his teeth. He dropped down onto a stool and laid his head in his hands. He hated when he got angry like this, but someone he saw as a friend was just killed. On top of that, Sord had announced he would be trying to kill all of them. With that evil grin on his face no less. Apparently Sord had gotten bored with the random civilians he picked up off the streets. Now he was targeting FKLites. He wasn’t afraid for himself, he could heal as fast as anyone could wound him. It was everyone else he was worried about.

Alex looked at the remains of Rena and felt another pang of grief. At the same time, he felt determined. He had to stop Sord, otherwise there would just be more deaths or injuries. But how was he supposed to do it? He hadn’t scanned the bodies of the people for any clues as to how Sord controlled them. He wanted to kick himself in the head for that, but it was to late now. He had to save them as well, they were just pawns. If he could get Sord to stop without killing him, he would even do that to, though the idea left a sour taste in his mouth.

He looked around the Pub; people were huddled in small groups discussing what had just happened. If any of them went out alone, they were sure to die. Sord probably wouldn’t care if the fight was four against one. They had to work together. Alex sighed, teamwork in FKL? Yeah right, but there was no choice. He sighed and stood up, he had to try.
[/spoiler-box]



<font size=-1>[ This Message was edited by: Sord on 2007-11-12 13:59 ]</font>

[Tact]

Woohoo, I'm alive! http://www.pso-world.com/images/phpbb/icons/smiles/icon_wacko.gif

Betting pools, anybody? Who dies next chapter?

[-Z]

On 2007-09-26 15:19, Sord wrote:
Tact was standing there, staring at the pile of ashes. At first he looked a bit taken aback, but then he just shrugged and sat back down. No more torture for him, he wasn’t going to complain even if he didn’t approve of the act.
...

If I might make a humble interjection...? =)

[Sord]

On 2007-09-26 15:54, -Z wrote:

On 2007-09-26 15:19, Sord wrote:
Tact was standing there, staring at the pile of ashes. At first he looked a bit taken aback, but then he just shrugged and sat back down. No more torture for him, he wasn’t going to complain even if he didn’t approve of the act.
...

If I might make a humble interjection...? =)


you haven't been in the bar much probably so you don't know of Rena's constant attacks on Tact. It's not like someone else couldn't start it. Granted, been awhile since you've been around.


<font size=-1>[ This Message was edited by: Sord on 2007-09-26 16:16 ]</font>

[BlackHat]

Is there always room for Jello?

I mean, you have to get full eventually.

[VanHalen]

Alright I killed a person!

[Sgt_Shligger]

Team work in FKL? I think I just stole Van's kill.

[Sord]

is there anyone else who wants to be in this that I've missed, I've already PMed PD and got some stuff from her. I'm gonna stick Wyndham in there to.

I know I haven't bothered to stick in Dikky, Haya, Dhy, and a few other people. Unless people speak up for themselves soon, they won't be in it.

[Sord]

Chapter 7
[spoiler-box]

Zuku watched from his table as Alex began trying to talk the FKLites into banding together. Zuku (http://img408.imageshack.us/img408/1001/zukuoy2.png) was something of a man, but most people probably thought he looked more like an alien. His skin was a deep jet black and completely hairless. His bald head did not even produce a glare under a bright light. His eyes were long and glowed neon green, as did his eyebrows. He had neither mouth nor nose, he didn’t need to breathe. Yet he could still talk, which was a mystery to all but Zuku. He was dressed in a black suit and pants with a blood red shirt and black tie. He could always be seen with a glass of red wine in one hand, and when he stood he frequently had his free hand in his pocket.

The majority of people avoided Zuku. He had an air of superiority around him that was often uncomfortable to be in the presence of. He acted in every manner as a person of high status. He would speak of the arts: classical music, literature, painting, sculpting, and other such things with fervor if you allowed him. He had even gone so far as to have a table in the bar reserved permanently and fitted with an eloquent table cloth and the numerous eating utensils associated with fine dining.

Unless you were of similar mind, Zuku was not the best of people to talk to. If he disliked something, he would often drop subtle yet powerful hints of dislike towards it. He would often look down on those who did not show at least some refined behavior, and would drop hints to leave him alone. As such, Zuku was rarely spoken to, and often left to himself. So no one noticed that he was paying more attention then usual to the on goings of the bar.

Under normal circumstances, Zuku would not bother himself with such trivial business. A deal had been made however, part of its bargain already carried out, and as such he was inclined to hold up his end. As he watched, he remembered his meeting with Sord several days ago.

The two had arranged to meet at an extravagant restaurant for a five course meal. The place was out of the way, known mostly to only those who would eat in such fine places. Inside the carpets were a plush red and the walls a complimenting brown. The lighting was soft, almost dim. The majority of the tables were lit by small candles. In various places throughout the establishment, sculptures and paintings could be found adding décor to the place.

Zuku inquired to the attendant at the entrance as per his reservation, and was promptly led to his table. Sord was already there, being the host it was the appropriate course of things. Zuku took a seat, looking Sord over as he did so. Sord was dressed in his usual attire: the same suit, tie, and shirt Zuku wore, but with a kilt and an eye-patch.

“Greetings Zuku, I trust this restaurant is to your liking?”

“Yes, though I must admit I am surprised you would ever eat here.”

“Don’t be, Zuku. Under normal circumstances I wouldn’t. However, I have called you here for a matter of… business. As such, it would be appropriate for me to choose a setting befitting my host.”

“Quite, your attempts at sophistication won’t be ignored.” *sip*

Sord ignored the statement. It may have sounded sincere, but Sord knew damn well Zuku would only be mildly impressed at best. The fact Zuku worked the word “attempts” into his line showed this well enough. The response was just cleverly hidden sarcasm. Now was not the time for arguing the point though. Sord continued talking.

“Good. Now then, pleasantries aside, I would like to discuss an arrangement. I want your aid during upcoming events. Events that I have been hard at work putting together. I need you to be a spy, and perhaps something more, should events go in the right direction.”

“Why, pray tell, would I perform acts of espionage, or any other such services, for a man such as yourself? You have given me little to like about you. Indeed, you do much that I abhor. You worship the poor man’s utensil, Spork. You revel in acts of violence. You may look fine and proper on the outside, but you are barbaric when it comes to your actions.” *sip*

“On the contrary Zuku, my little acts of “violence” are works of art themselves. The art of torture has been around for millenniums. My products may not be on a canvas or a statue, but I assure you I take great care in making unique works. Each pain and every sufferance is given great attention. This is hardly unusual, despite the world’s displeasure of it. Even the Roman’s with their contributions to classical arts and education still enjoyed the revels of blood and screams. They held events glorifying it, parading it in one of the grandest works of architecture in the world, the Roman Colosseum “

“The Roman’s are dead Sord. Their influence in the arts may live on, but the violent bloodlust of the Colosseum games has long since been extinguished. The deplorable actions of the Romans died with them, as they should have. Violence should not be celebrated on any account. Even if an assassination were to be desired, it should be done quickly, clean, and with efficiency. So I ask you, once again, why would I ever lend you my services?”

“Because I can do something that your standards will not permit you to do outright. Many people will die in the coming days. In return for your services, I will ensure the deaths of those that you despise most will be on the list of those killed. I am, of course, speaking of cat people.”

Zuku actually paused to think. While it was true he was not fond of violence and avoided it, there was of course one area where there had always been a bit of an exception. Zuku loathed cat people. They were abominations, unfit to exist. An improper form of nature that should have been weeded out of the gene pool long ago. Zuku was reluctant to act interested in Sord’s plans, but decided to allow it.

“Your offer is... tempting. Yet dealing with you in such negotiations leaves me rather… hesitant. What insurance do I have that they will be exterminated?”

“I will kill one of them, right before your eyes. Let that be my down payment, so to speak. After the first death, you will begin spying in the Pub for me. You don’t have to do anything that would sully your precious suit or anything. Just watch and report. I’ll do all the dirty work”

Zuku narrowed his eyes at Sord. Zuku went to great lengths to have his suit kept clean, and such remarks against him were annoying. Yet he had made his own fair share of remarks, so he let it slide.

“Very well then, Sord. You have your deal.”

Sord smiled, and the food was served. The dinner was mostly eaten in silence, the only other discussion being about the location of drop off points for any info gathered.

That had been several days ago, and now one of the cat people were dead. Sord had gone through with his promise. Now it was Zuku’s turn to do his. It would all be worth it though, in the end. Zuku looked at Tact, his eyes boring into the back of his head. “You’re next,” he said to himself.

*sip*

[/spoiler-box]


for those of you not familiar with -Z, this is his main character persona. Anyone who was around for Scrub's last FKL comic or my last tournament should definitly recognize the character.



<font size=-1>[ This Message was edited by: Sord on 2007-11-12 14:00 ]</font>

[Sgt_Shligger]

Well, I can say I do. Nice chapter to say the least.

[-Z]

On 2007-09-29 17:45, -Z wrote:
Needn't be anything extensive, but I wouldn't mind a cameo, if the offer still stands.
...
A chapter is fine too. X);

[Sord]

you were a conveniant character to have. I needed a "lawfull evil" guy that Sord could cut a deal with. Originally it was going to be tact, but then he said he wouldn't do it. So yeah... i lost that character role, then you came along. And conveniantly I didn't feel like typing all the damn dialogue between Alex and the FKLites. so yeah, you wound up being one massive conveniance.

[Tact]

I'm still not going to heal the people you hurt for high medical bills and give you cuts of the profits. >_>

[Sord]

it's to late now anyways, shady deal character already exists.

[Tact]

I know, I'm just making sure that's out there.

[Sord]

oh well, nice knowing you i guess >_>

[Tact]

That's what you said when I first told you that. >_>

[Sord]

really? *checks logs*

[Tact]

Well, not exactly that, but I got the same sort of message. http://www.pso-world.com/images/phpbb/icons/smiles/icon_wacko.gif

[Shadowpawn]

On 2007-10-01 18:23, Sord wrote:
you were a conveniant character to have. I needed a "lawfull evil" guy that Sord could cut a deal with. Originally it was going to be tact, but then he said he wouldn't do it. So yeah... i lost that character role, then you came along. And conveniantly I didn't feel like typing all the damn dialogue between Alex and the FKLites. so yeah, you wound up being one massive conveniance.



Go figure, eh? :/

[Sord]

what is that supposed to mean >_>

[Shadowpawn]

Nothing. <_<

[Sord]

riiiiiight >_>

[Sord]

Chapter 8
[spoiler-box]

Sord read through Zuku’s first intelligence report. Alex had tried to get the FKLites to agree to an all out unity, but the facts were that there was simply too many inflated egos in FKL that would refuse to follow someone else. Since such a large unification would need a leader, that simply wasn’t going to happen. Instead, most people just agreed not to travel alone, sticking in small groups. Still, there were those that still felt they could take on anyone, and that this whole thing wasn’t a threat to them. For the most part, this was just one man. Dizzy.


* * *

“I’m a cowboy, damn it, I don’t need any help!”

“Dizzy, it’s five against one! You won’t survive out there.”

“Bullshit, I’ll be fine as long as I have my guns and my steed. That’s all a cowboy needs.”

Dizzy had decided to leave the bar, and refused to have anyone go with him. Alex was trying to convince him not to leave, but Dizzy would hear none of it. He was a cowboy damn it, a lone wolf that walked his own path. He didn’t need any help going home.

Dizzy walked outside and untied his horse. The horse was, by all means, both intimidating and fascinating at the same time. It was jet black, and completely mechanical. Its skin was finely crafted metal plating, overlapping in areas of movement or joints. Its eyes glowed red, lit from within by a red fire. When it snorted, small flames came out of its nose. Its face was fierce; the teeth were always bared.

The horse turned its head to nuzzle it against Dizzy’s face, the movements seeming all too fluent and smooth to be part of a machine. It gave a soft whinny, tinted with the sound of gears and springs moving. The breath smelled faintly of ash, hot and dry on Dizzy’s cheek, like a campfire in the desert wind. Dizzy patted the horses head, and then mounted it in one swift motion, bareback. He clicked his spurs against its side and with a “Ghidyup,” the horse headed off at a trot.

The roads of FKL wound through the waist land. In the distance there was a glimmer on the ground spreading far too either side. It seemed to move back and forth as Dizzy approached it. When he rode up to it, he found that the entire road and much to the sides had been iced over. The sheet was thick, perhaps a good few inches high.

Dizzy glanced around, observing his surroundings. He was in a barren portion of FKL, where the main city section of it dumped out into a rocky dessert. Very little sand was actually on the ground. It was just dry barren rock. There where some large boulders scattered throughout, but nothing seemed unusual except the ice. It stretched too far to either side to bother going around, and was too slippery to ride on.

Dizzy calmly lit a cigarette and put it in his mouth. The end glowed in the now fading light of the setting sun. He took a slow breath, blowing the smoke out in a stream.

“Melt it.”

At the command, the mechanical horse gave a great whinny. Its eyes glowed with white hot fire, and it opened its mouth to let out a great jet of flame. The fire quickly melted the ice, steam rising from it. The water pooled around the horses legs, and it trotted on, shooting its flame ahead to clear the path.

Ronin peaked out from behind a boulder, near the start of where Dizzy had begun melting the ice. He had drawn it there for the very purpose of hiding behind it. There was a small stream coming from ahead, where Dizzy’s horse was still melting ice. It was deeper where Dizzy was, but flowing backwards out of the path made in the ice.

Ronin slowly lowered his brush into the water, twirling it around a little in the small stream.

“Spark buster.”

As Ronin said the words, electricity fired from his brush, into the water. It raced through the fluid, conducted straight to the metal hooves of Dizzy’s horse. It traveled up the horse’s legs and into Dizzy. Dizzy shouted and burst into spasms. The shock went away after a short bit, leaving Dizzy in great pain, burned where he was touching the horse. He quickly looked back, just in time to see Ronin fire off another buster.

Again Dizzy was fried, but this time the electricity didn’t let up. Ronin was repetitiously chanting “Spark buster,” and with every two words Dizzy’s agony continued. His hair was on end, his body jerking wildly. He couldn’t get off the horse though; his body was stuck to it. His clothes and skin had burned to the metal from the electric heat. Within a few seconds Dizzy blacked out, falling onto the neck of his horse as the surge of electricity finally stopped.

The horse, while being an unwilling conductor, was not affected by the electricity in the least. It knew its master was being attacked. It turned around and began to charge at Ronin full speed. Ronin, unperturbed, lifted his brush to point at the ground just in front of the horse.

“Chill buster.”

An icy blast shot out from the end of the brush, slamming into the water where the horse’s feet were now moving through. The ice wasn’t thick enough to fully stop the horse, but that wasn’t the intention. The horse broke out of the ice, but its balance was broken. It fell, tumbling. A half a ton of steel slamming down into the ground, rolling, with Dizzy on its back. Dizzy fell off and tumbled to the side, his clothes and outer skin ripping off where they were burnt to the horse’s hide. The horse itself slid several feet before stopping.

Ronin continued to fire blasts of ice at the horse, freezing it to the ground as it lay in the water. He knew that would only hold the horse temporarily though, it was mechanical and could break out soon enough. He began to fire ice shots directly at the horse, freezing its skin to extremely low temperatures.

Finally, Ronin took one last aim with his brush, began to twirl it in a small circle, and shouted.

“Flame blaster!”

A stream of flame shot out from the end of the brush, towards the metal horse. It engulfed the mechanical beast, swallowing it up. The frozen skin was now heated up to fast after being so cold. Cracks burst out upon its hide, and then the horse shattered. A plume of flame arose from the collapsed remains, the last of the horse’s life.

Ronin lowered his brush, and then dropped it. He was covered in sweat, chilled, aching, and shivering. He retched, grabbing at his aching chest. Finally, he fell to the side with a thump. His body was drained.

Using magic at such strong levels for that long, it had taxed Ronin’s body heavily. He would live though, Ronin was sure of it. He cursed in his head, to weak to form the words. He would live through this, he would recover, and Sord would make him fight again. Why couldn’t he have just been overused, expended to the point he could no longer recover? Of course, Sord would probably just kill him if that happened.

Ronin didn’t want to do this, but he had no choice. Sord, the sadistic bastard that he was, had left Ronin his own conscience and thoughts completely intact. He would suffer the guilt and memory of every FKLite Sord would have him take down or kill. Even if he lived, and escaped Sord’s control, he knew his mind would be scarred by the acts Sord would make him commit. The others were no different; Sord had done it to them all. Ronin cursed again, and closed his eyes. He was angry, but also tired, very tired. The last sounds he heard was a jeep pulling up and the sound of a door clicking open.


* * *

The following morning, the head of Dizzy’s horse was found placed in front of the pub. It was laced with cracks, but it had survived most of the main body’s collapse. Its eyes were dead, black pits in the lifeless skull. In its mouth were pictures, providing the utmost assurance to the rest of FKL that Dizzy was dead. In them, Dizzy’s corpse had been dismembered, and put back together with pieces of metal from the horse. Burned on in some places, bolted in others. He took the shape of a warped and twisted minotaur. In a manner of speaking, he had become a trophy of the kill. What was written on the picture sent just as many chills through the spines of others as the image had sickened.

“He survived the… fight. He was awake for every moment of dismemberment. His screams of agony were exquisite. I look forward to more.”
-Sord

The horse head was taken in and placed on a shelf over the bar. A token to the lost Dizzy, and a possible omen of the future.

[/spoiler-box]


<font size=-1>[ This Message was edited by: Sord on 2007-11-12 14:01 ]</font>

[PhotonDrop]

Fun!

[Sord]

gah, did a proofread and saw a bunch of mistakes, fixed now http://www.pso-world.com/images/phpbb/icons/smiles/icon_disapprove.gif

what i managed to catch anyways

[Tact]

I didn't bother to proofread it, but I will if you want me to. http://www.pso-world.com/images/phpbb/icons/smiles/icon_wacko.gif

[VanHalen]

Ronin is G.

[Weeaboolits]

o_O

[Sord]

homee g or loco g?

[Sord]

Chapter 9
[spoiler-box]

Sord thumbed through Zuku’s latest reports of the B4R. While Dizzy’s death certainly had taken the toll on the minds of the people, they still were not willing to go on the offensive as a whole. Zuku was of the opinion that another death might spark some fight into them. Sord sighed, annoyed. It was already apparent they weren’t fighting as a whole now, so he might as well kill off another one anyways. There wasn’t much else he could do.


* * *

“Quit making a mess, damnit!”

Tact was shouting at some rowdy patrons of the bar. They were having a food fight, and as such it meant a mess that he didn’t want to clean up. If only Tystys hadn’t left. For whatever reason, be it fear of the current events and happenings of FKL, or something unrelated, several FKLers had stopped showing up. Since Sord had not sent anything to prove he had killed them as he had with Dizzy, it was assumed that they were not dead and merely did not show up anymore.

Naturally, one would think that meant less of a mess in the bar. Unfortunately, that was not the case. Which meant more work for Tact getting the others to clean up their mess and more picking their pockets to pay for the damages they caused, on top of serving the them food and drink in the first place. Work, work, work. Tact glanced at the clock; it was nearly ten, which meant he could call it a night. He sighed again, heavily this time.

Several of the patrons began to trickle out in small groups, not daring to go alone. A few came back: Zuku, PD, Bob, mostly all the old veterans that hardly ever showed up anymore, and when they did it was often late at night. Finally it was 10pm, and Tact put away the cleaning materials and justifiably stolen cash for the night. He went upstairs to the quiet room, collapsing on the worn makeshift bed. Within a few minutes he was asleep.


* * *

Late into night, into the early morning in fact, nearly everyone had left. Only one man remained, Zuku. He silently scooted his chair out and got up, and began heading up the stairs of the B4R. He opened the door to the quite room, trying not to make a sound.

He pulled a syringe out of his suit’s breast pocket. It was a small tranquilizer, the dosage was minimal, but the substance itself was strong. He silently moved over to Tact, holding the needle just above his neck. He quickly plunged the needle down into Tact, injecting him. For a brief moment, Tact’s eyes opened, alert and awake. They quickly misted over however, and his eyelids began to droop once more. Before falling unconscious again, he muttered “Damn, the AAGOA has got me.”

Zuku went to the window and opened it, peering down. Below in the ally way was Van, or rather, the hair demon that had taken him over. In the past few days Van’s body had been completely engulfed in it. The hair covered him like a second skin, a dry black mass pulsing with Van’s heartbeat. Zuku briefly wondered if enough static electricity were applied to it, could it become the world’s biggest afro? He shook his head at such nonsense, and motioned with his hand for Van to come up.

A coiled rope of hair reached up and through the window, falling apart at the ends once in the room. It spread out and moved around, as if feeling for something. Finally, it came upon Tact. The hair paused for a moment, and then every strand began to head towards Tact. It began to wrap around him, making sure to cover all of him but his head so he could breathe. It began to drag him out of the bed, across the floor, then up and out the window.

Zuku watched as Tact fell with a light “poof” sound as it crashed into a huge dense afro of hair, newly formed. Once Tact was set on the ground, Zuku put his legs over the windowsill, sitting on the edge. He pushed himself off, falling into the afro himself, and then rolling off on the ground.

Zuku stood up, but he appeared to be melting, large drops of waxy looking skin quickly sliding about. The globs of organic liquid shifted around, changing colors and mixing with one another. In a brief second it all froze and he appeared human again. That is, Sord appeared human again.

Sord muttered under his breath, “Good to be back home,” and dusted himself off. He glanced at Van, whose hair now returned back to its normal covering of the body underneath. Perhaps there was some credibility to the afro theory after all. Van’s hair once again wrapped around Tact, picking him up. Sord could not have done it himself, due to Tact’s habit of wearing a dress of needles.

The two walked silently through several streets and allies, before arriving at a black Jeep. Tact was tossed in the back, and Sord got in the drivers seat, with Van on the passenger side. Sord started the engine and drove off into the night.


* * *

Tact slowly became aware he was conscious. His eyes were still closed, and he felt as if he were sitting in a chair. He opened his eyes, and was confused by the sight before him. He was seated in a comfortable cushioned chair, and in front of him was a large table, filled with a variety of foods. He was sitting at the end of it, and it stretched a good deal away from him. For all appearances, it seemed to be a banquet.

“Well, see anything you like?”

Tact quickly swiveled his head to look at the source of the sound. There was another seat a little ways down on the side of the table, and Sord was sitting in it.

“What the… Sord, what am I doing he…” Tact trailed off on his sentence, the memory of Zuku had come rushing back to him. “Wait, the AAGOA… but you’re not with them. What’s going on?”

“Well, for starters, that wasn’t Zuku, it was me. You see, Zuku is actually a spy for me, when he left the bar earlier that night, he never came back. I did. I proceeded to wait until the bar was empty, and promptly dragged you out the window with the aid of Van’s hair. That needle dress of yours was quite a pain.”

Tact quickly glanced down, realizing he wasn’t even in his needle dress anymore. Instead he was dressed in a casual black pare of pants and a tee shirt. He shook his head, collecting his thoughts. Finally, he looked up at Sord and spoke.

“Zuku is a spy, so I’m guessing the payment is my death?”

“Quite right, you are correct. However, at this point in time, you now know too much anyways, and would have to be killed regardless.”

Sord said his line in a monotonous tone. He seemed neither happy nor sad; his voice didn’t even carry any sort of conviction. It sounded as if he were merely stating fact. This was, of course, contrary to what Tact had expected. If anything Sord should have a smile on his face, happy that he was about to kill someone and letting them fear their impending doom. He began to ask a question

“And this large meal is-”

“Your last meal, yes. I was not sure what food you liked, though I know some of what you don’t. So I just had a large banquet made for you to pick and choose from. It’s wasteful of course, but killing the manager of a grocery store to steal his produce and forcing chefs into cooking via bombs strapped onto collars around their necks is not particularly hard for me. Also, you will be the only one treated as such before their death. And, in the event of an escape, I’ve had a remote detonated bomb placed within your stomach. So don’t try running.”

Again, Tact realized something else strange. He was not tied down in any fashion. He quickly felt his chest for some sort of scar or pain. There was nothing, though he realized his throat felt a bit harsh, like he had swallowed something a bit too big. He must have been force fed the bomb.

“Sord, why are you doing this?”

“That depends, what are you asking about? Why am I killing members of FKL, or why am I giving you a last meal? Or is there something else?”

“Both.”

“Well, as per why I’m killing FKL, I suppose there is no reason that any of you would deem a good one. For me, it’s just for fun. I want FKL to be pulled into a miniature war. I want carnage, chaos, and the loss one feels at the death of comrades. Every negative connotation that war brings about. Naturally, I shall lead my side; the rest of FKL can fight me as they wish. Though it is my hope they will band together, it would make things far more interesting. Hopefully after your death, they will finally be pushed to the brink of doing so.”

Sord paused to take a drink of his beverage before continuing. Appearing to be deep in thought. He continued,

“As to the latter question, let me start with explaining something about your death. Its purpose is threefold. I need to kill you to fulfill my contract with Zuku, I need to kill you to inspire enough fear in the rest of FKL to band together, and I need to kill you for me.”

“Kill me for you? What the hell are you talking about?” Tact was now thoroughly confused. Sord had begun to slouch in his chair, and his head was dropped down a little. He appeared to be staring into his plate, no longer looking directly at Tact. Sord started to speak, slowly, and in a voice completely devoid of any emotion.

“I need to kill you, because you will be the hardest one to do so. We are not quite friends, after all, I am killing you. However, I’ve known you for quite awhile now. You are one of the few veterans here, of which I spoke to both in the past and the present. Over time, I have developed some sort of… distant loyalty, I suppose, towards you. I even went so far as to kill several futa lovers that were stalking you, not because I found killing them fun, but because they would have been a nuisance to you. In one event I even beat Rena, telling her to find victims other than you, though I did it under the pretense that attacking just one person was boring. Granted, it is boring, but the point was it was because she was harassing you all the time.”

“While I admit it is rather skewed, I am giving you this last meal out of that same distant loyalty. You will be subjected to an antithetic and then lethal injection for your death. You will feel no pain, and your passing will be calm. Once again though, if you try to escape or attack me, you will be killed via a bomb in your stomach. It is designed to be fairly small, rupturing your stomach and perhaps a few organs around it. Needless to say, if you don’t die immediately, then the stomach acid and other contents of your insides leaking out will. Nor do I hold the trigger; this meal is being viewed via camera by one of my subordinates. They have the trigger, and will push it if they see you do anything suspicious. By the time I realize what they are doing; I will not be able to order them to stop. Your death is guaranteed. I only hope you make this moment a decent one and don’t kill yourself early.”

Tact could only stare for a moment. He wanted to shout and scream at Sord, telling him that something so skewed couldn’t possibly be loyalty. However, that wouldn’t affect Sord, at least not negatively. It appeared that Sord’s point of killing Tact was because Sord had gotten to close to him. It was causing Sord, of all people, internal struggle. Sord would not be familiar with it, and it would no doubt be causing him some unfamiliar types of pain. If Tact got himself killed now, it would only serve to end Sord’s internal struggles. Tact decided he would make this meal as peaceful as possible. He would do nothing to tarnish the so called distant loyalty Sord had for him, he would make sure Sord felt every ounce of guilt his presence could possibly cause.

Tact proceeded to carry out his idea. He talked about common FKL life with Sord as if he were not about to die. He chose from his favorite foods and ate in his normal manner, as if the fact that it was his last meal meant nothing to him. The signs on Sord had become clearly visible, he had become more solemn, and there was no emotion in any of his voice now. It appeared as though in an attempt to dull any inward pain, Sord was trying to cut off emotion all together. This only pleased Tact, and made him all the more happy while eating, and thus increased his acting the part of a good friend to a higher level. The cycle was tearing Sord’s insides out.

Finally the two finished eating. Without saying anything, Sord got up and led Tact to another room, in which lay a simple bed with an IV and bag. Tact lay down without a complaint, and waited for Sord to administer the anesthetic. Sord did so, and waited for the IV to take its effect.

“You know Sord; you could just stop right now. You might have killed, but it’s not like you aren’t entirely incapable of redemption.” Tact said this not with a voice of fear, but as if he were trying to convince Sord he had some good in him.

“You sound like a damn preacher Tact. I’m afraid that’s not going to work.”

Tact just shrugged, and closed his eyes. He was asleep shortly. Sord pulled a syringe from his inside breast pocket; it was practically becoming a trademark at this point. He took the antithetic tube off of the IV needle, and hooked in the syringe.

Sord muttered out loud to himself, “I do not want a chance of redemption. I can not let that exist. With your death, I know I can kill anyone else as needed. See ya.” And pushed in the plunger.

Sord sighed heavily, unhooking the IV and taking out his knife. It was time to get to work. He had to skin Tact and apply his features to a robot. A simple dead Tact, not even mutilated, might be too little to push the FKLers into a worry desperate enough to bring about a union. He had to make it look like he had made Tact’s death brutal. As he inserted the tip of the knife into Tact, Sord couldn’t help but think of the line, “There’s more than one way to skin a cat.”


* * *

Within a couple days of Tact’s disappearance, an unmarked package showed up at the B4R. It contained a DVD disc, which was itself unmarked. Out of curiosity, one of the patrons put it in the DVD player of the bar’s TV. An image flicked on, showing Tact suspended above a tub of thick, opaque acid. He was bound and gagged, and did not seem to be struggling much. Tact screamed as his body lowered slowly into the ominous vat of fluid, pain seeming to overtake him. The B4R was thankful for the fact they couldn’t see into the thick colored acid, no doubt there would be quickly eroding flesh and bone. Finally Tact appeared to black out from the pain and someone finally recovered from the shock enough to get up and turn off the TV. Afterwards, the bar sat in a heavy silence, no one was sure what to say.
[/spoiler-box]


<font size=-1>[ This Message was edited by: Sord on 2007-11-12 14:02 ]</font>

[Sgt_Shligger]

HEY GUYS

I'M STARTING TO THINK SORD'S TRYING TO KILL US

IS SORD TRYING TO KILL US?

[PhotonDrop]

This is getting a little silly, Sord. One of the key parts of a story is establishing the antagonist(s), but you've been doing it for nine chapters now. Unless you're writing dark humor on purpose, or plan on making this into a saga, it'd be great if you shook things up a little. Reading "Bad guy wins, uninhibited" every chapter is getting repetitive. http://www.pso-world.com/images/phpbb/icons/smiles/icon_frown.gif

[Sgt_Shligger]

I'll second that. You seem to be nearly indestructible. You've taken all the people who could've given you a challenge and turned them on your side. All that's left is the Plebians http://www.pso-world.com/images/phpbb/icons/smiles/icon_disapprove.gif

[Tact]

Hmm, so it was my turn. Eh, at least I didn't die a horrible, painful death.

[Sord]

actualy, it is gettng/has gotten to that point where the bad guy stops winning. Tact's is the last death that FKL is just going to watch happen. From here on out the rest of FKL is going to start fighting back. As per the first nine chapters being like that, well, it's the setup. I honestly (should I finish this) plan to have more than double nine chapters. You can call that a Saga if you want. I don't plan on writing some short litte ficiton. If that were the case then the chapters themselves would be shorter as well. I'm looking at somewhere in the twenties of chapters. This thing is far from over.

I am not making this out to look like some glorify the badguy thing, or glorify me, though I am very aware it apears as such. I almost dropped the story on that basis alone. I do not wish to appear conceited.

There are a few reasons as to why it's been badguy win this and that:

Nobody was even aware, up until the death of Rena, that there was anything even going on. Since then, only 2 people have actually died (that is, not including Rena.) Until then, the villain had the power of suprise, so to speak, with every victim. He no longer has that, and after Tact's death, you'll start deliberately tracking down and killing/taking prisoner people I have taken over.

The other reason lies in the structure I have decided to present this story in. Most stories start out introducing the hero, then the problem and or villain, then the hero fixes the problem. Because there is no plans for one singular hero or a small group,but rather the rest of FKL as a majority, and considering the scale of people in FKL and the fact we know each other, I decided to completely forgo the first part, not yet establishing any sort of hero as of yet.

Finally, we have the fact, that up to this point, I have remained mostly in the perspective of my own character. This is the most comfortable for me obviously, because I am not anyone else or their character. I have to make assumptions on how people would have their character act in certain situation, based on how they appear in FKL. When that comes to anything deep, that can be treading some pretty murky territory, as a lot of stuff on FKL is a joke; not very good for making such assumptions off of. Some people, I have actually inquired to them as to how they might act, or just asked for a lot of detail in general about their character.

That's realy all I have to say on that. Just don't presume that this is some bad guy wins thing. As much as I want a story to end like that, I decided before writing this that I would not allow that to happen. I assure this whole bad guy wins everything is about to end.

[TalHex]

i like were this is going http://www.pso-world.com/images/phpbb/icons/smiles/anime1.gif story ends bad guy wins is good
story ends good guy wins all right
story ends total chaos and annihilation http://www.pso-world.com/images/phpbb/icons/smiles/anime1.gif best yet http://www.pso-world.com/images/phpbb/icons/smiles/anime1.gif