Re: Battle Royale! Round 5: Monte Casino
01-31-2010, 11:14 PM
Originally posted on MSPA by Drakenforge.
Mike's lifeless eyes surveyed the carnage. A cloud of smoke slowly passed over the crimson carpet, dyed red in the sea of blood. Movement. The vectors turned Mike's head as a shadow flew across the floor, but lost it almost instantly. Noise. Coughs and groans. They had been wrong. They had thought all humans were dead. Very wrong.
Mike slowly sank into a dark abyss. He couldn't breath, he couldn't see. He was helpless in a void of nothingness. Nothing but the feeling that he was sinking, very slowly, into a bad place. He was afraid, scared that his life was at an end. He didn't want to die, he was afraid of death. Death, to cause so much and yet fear the very thing I create for others. Light! A blinding light envelops his body, releasing him from the fears. He see's something. An image. No, more than that, he feels as though he is staring through the eyes of another person.
Mike recognises voices, blury, but certainly people. As the picture becomes larger and clearer so too does the sound.
"-saying, is that your son is not what medical science can call 'human'. It is a rare condition. Never before have we truly seen this effect in a boy before. The horns, yes, can occur, but to retain the genes found only in the females? I'm sorry, but we cannot, and will not, allow your son to leave this facility"
A man. This is the voice of a man. I, or whoever I am watching through, is looking up at this mans chin. I see a white coat, stuble, nose. Familiar. He almost reminds me of someone, but I cannot remember who...
"SICK BASTARD! I know about what you do here, torture! No child ever leaves this place outside of a body bag! I couldn't give a crap about your 'research', I want my baby!"
'Now it is a woman. The view turns to see her. Brown hair, blue eyes. She is pretty, maybe. I see anger, no, pure hatred on her face. Ah! My head. It hurts, why won't the pain go away!
'Nostalgia. Are these my memories? I don't know. The man mentioned 'horns'. Am I the baby being mentioned?
Turture. Facility. Research. These words were my life. These must be my earliest memories, making that woman my-
Mother.' A deep sadness filled Mike's heart at this revelation.
"Control yourself!" The man replied angrily, "If we allow this creature to roam the streets of a populated area, it would be a massacre! Your child may seem normal, but insanity always seeps into the brains of these creatures after infantcy. Always. The males are usually rare and recessive. Horns, baldness, normal eyes. They remain sane.
Your son is the missing link, I believe. Look at him. Hair, red eyes, horns. He'll grow 'them' too, the palm prints are always the first sign. He will become a monster, there is no doubt. To allow him to live in a carefree environment, well, he can't live in a sheltered lifestyle forever. In normal life, he would find himself in a situation he hates. then, the rage seeps in. He slaughters everyone around him, and continues to do so until he is killed. Every time.
"Even if you left him alone in a room somewhere, away from every person except you, he would grow to hate you for locking him up, and you would be the first casualty" The man concluded.
The woman, no, Mike's mother, broke down in tears. She had silently mouthed 'no' all through the man's speech, and couldn't take it. She looked the baby, Mike, right in the eyes.
'So, she did fight for my freedom, at least at first. Too bad it didn't work out eh? Heh, heh. Damn. Never knew I was so important to someone. This man as a research subject, and this woman as her son. Hmm. I think I remember killing the guy. Oh yeah. Fourteenth birthday. I loved the look of terror on his face, the bastard. Sure showed him for those years of malnutrition, drugs and 'endurance' training. My ass, no training involves a huge cannon pointed at my face. I can still feel those broken bones. Ugh. Still, ain't nothing to what I feel these days I guess
'But what about her? I know I saw her after this at least once, I wouldn't remember her otherwise'
The scene changes. The walls are broken, facility walls. Wide metal corridors with yellow painted markers. Guards, all armed. Ripped to bits, mostly. Their faces frozen forever in a painting of true terror. Mike's escape, slaughter of guards, and theft of the shotgun. The eyes turn to view a door opening at the end of the corridor. It's his mother, older now, wearing all black, yet smelling of blood. Theres a gun in her hand, and she looks scared. She mouths words to Mike, but the inner Mike cannot hear them. Past Mike takes a step forward, towards her. She winces, as if in pain, and raises the gun. She doesn't look like she wants to shoot, but the body stops. It bobs up in down, as if talking. She responds, waving her arm at Mike, then patting herself. Probably telling Mike who she is.
But too late. The madness seeped in. Mike has been locked in here a very long time.
'Wait. But I don't remember this. I don't even remember wanting to kill anyone of those guards. The doctor was different, he deserved to die! I-i, I don't know.
Why is this so confusing?'
Because you are the birth Mike
'What?'
You were there, and not here A dark voice responds.
You killed, and for that you were punished. But it was not the pain that broke you. You were traumatised by that death. Who were you to decide who lived and who died? But I was there for you. I nurtured you like you were my own son. i would never abandon you, even though twice you have forsaken me. You created the Mike you are now from your own desperate subconscious. All the bad emotions you felt, apart from fear, created this new persona for you. You were buried deep within your soul. A wise move, I believe, but sad, as I could not speak to the boy I created. I was left with the monster you left behind
'You. You're the thing that was talking to me earlier, werent you?' Mike responded, reffering to the waitress.
Aye. But now I am something... different. I gained the power to talk to you, the real you, and show you, this.
The vision comes back. Past Mike is now in range of mother. She believes I, no, he, remembers her. She canot see the vectors. Oh, how loving she must have been. She reaches her arm out towards the eyes. Flash. Her fingers are falling from her arm in pieces. The vectors move with inhuman precision, dicing her horribly. She does not flinch. Is it shock? Or, is she prepared to die by her sons hands?
Inner Mike looks away as his mother is brutaly murdered with a dark, sick manner. He loots the gun, the image fades, and the voice returns.
That is the instant you really truly snapped. It was then that I deemed you worthy of this battle. Now, I will releash you. Control the monster, and you will gain it's strength. That's the theory, anyways.
The abyss fades. No more sinking, no more void. Mike's essence fills the empty void in his head. His eyes flare back, brighter than ever. He feels the pain in his horn, and that is agonising. The ribs hurt too. But, to feel pain, it shows he is alive. To him, that is much better than the void.
Mike snaps to reality. A lot of people are fighting. It looks like people who are bloodied and covered with spikes are attempting to hunt down survivors. Zeke is repelling two masked fgures who look exactly the same, but the spikes are in different places. One has none near his chest, the other is peppered with them. He is falling back, one step at a time. The two figures are lauging, hacking, slashing. The more injured one is attacking with a, no way. An arm, with it's hand wrapped around a sword. His arm is holding an arm holding a sword. The other is fighting with a knife, and both are being remarkably skilled.
"Zeke" Mike mouthed, flexing his neck, "Parties over. Let's round these leftovers up and move on to the real business at hand."
Zeke didn't turn or raise his head, but Mike knew he got the picture.
'Right. So, i'm in control. Still gotta kill people, well, after what I just saw I know I have no other choice. It's good to be back though'
He raised the left vector in an overhead swing and brought it down on the floor, gaining the attention of several undead
Mike smiled. Not the wild, bastardly grin he was now no doubt noticibly lacking, but an honest smile. The kind of warm hearted smile thay creeps you out more than the mad grin even though it's not trying to.
"Well then, let's begin. Mike Shaun has arrived"
A pink humanoid, undead, flies across the battlefield with a sword hanging from it's limp arms. It's cackles, swings, and slams the sword full force into a blocking vector. It moves it's head closer to say, "I have no lovers, boooyyy. Ha! I shall love you then! TILL DEATH DO US PART!"
Mike's lifeless eyes surveyed the carnage. A cloud of smoke slowly passed over the crimson carpet, dyed red in the sea of blood. Movement. The vectors turned Mike's head as a shadow flew across the floor, but lost it almost instantly. Noise. Coughs and groans. They had been wrong. They had thought all humans were dead. Very wrong.
Mike slowly sank into a dark abyss. He couldn't breath, he couldn't see. He was helpless in a void of nothingness. Nothing but the feeling that he was sinking, very slowly, into a bad place. He was afraid, scared that his life was at an end. He didn't want to die, he was afraid of death. Death, to cause so much and yet fear the very thing I create for others. Light! A blinding light envelops his body, releasing him from the fears. He see's something. An image. No, more than that, he feels as though he is staring through the eyes of another person.
Mike recognises voices, blury, but certainly people. As the picture becomes larger and clearer so too does the sound.
"-saying, is that your son is not what medical science can call 'human'. It is a rare condition. Never before have we truly seen this effect in a boy before. The horns, yes, can occur, but to retain the genes found only in the females? I'm sorry, but we cannot, and will not, allow your son to leave this facility"
A man. This is the voice of a man. I, or whoever I am watching through, is looking up at this mans chin. I see a white coat, stuble, nose. Familiar. He almost reminds me of someone, but I cannot remember who...
"SICK BASTARD! I know about what you do here, torture! No child ever leaves this place outside of a body bag! I couldn't give a crap about your 'research', I want my baby!"
'Now it is a woman. The view turns to see her. Brown hair, blue eyes. She is pretty, maybe. I see anger, no, pure hatred on her face. Ah! My head. It hurts, why won't the pain go away!
'Nostalgia. Are these my memories? I don't know. The man mentioned 'horns'. Am I the baby being mentioned?
Turture. Facility. Research. These words were my life. These must be my earliest memories, making that woman my-
Mother.' A deep sadness filled Mike's heart at this revelation.
"Control yourself!" The man replied angrily, "If we allow this creature to roam the streets of a populated area, it would be a massacre! Your child may seem normal, but insanity always seeps into the brains of these creatures after infantcy. Always. The males are usually rare and recessive. Horns, baldness, normal eyes. They remain sane.
Your son is the missing link, I believe. Look at him. Hair, red eyes, horns. He'll grow 'them' too, the palm prints are always the first sign. He will become a monster, there is no doubt. To allow him to live in a carefree environment, well, he can't live in a sheltered lifestyle forever. In normal life, he would find himself in a situation he hates. then, the rage seeps in. He slaughters everyone around him, and continues to do so until he is killed. Every time.
"Even if you left him alone in a room somewhere, away from every person except you, he would grow to hate you for locking him up, and you would be the first casualty" The man concluded.
The woman, no, Mike's mother, broke down in tears. She had silently mouthed 'no' all through the man's speech, and couldn't take it. She looked the baby, Mike, right in the eyes.
'So, she did fight for my freedom, at least at first. Too bad it didn't work out eh? Heh, heh. Damn. Never knew I was so important to someone. This man as a research subject, and this woman as her son. Hmm. I think I remember killing the guy. Oh yeah. Fourteenth birthday. I loved the look of terror on his face, the bastard. Sure showed him for those years of malnutrition, drugs and 'endurance' training. My ass, no training involves a huge cannon pointed at my face. I can still feel those broken bones. Ugh. Still, ain't nothing to what I feel these days I guess
'But what about her? I know I saw her after this at least once, I wouldn't remember her otherwise'
The scene changes. The walls are broken, facility walls. Wide metal corridors with yellow painted markers. Guards, all armed. Ripped to bits, mostly. Their faces frozen forever in a painting of true terror. Mike's escape, slaughter of guards, and theft of the shotgun. The eyes turn to view a door opening at the end of the corridor. It's his mother, older now, wearing all black, yet smelling of blood. Theres a gun in her hand, and she looks scared. She mouths words to Mike, but the inner Mike cannot hear them. Past Mike takes a step forward, towards her. She winces, as if in pain, and raises the gun. She doesn't look like she wants to shoot, but the body stops. It bobs up in down, as if talking. She responds, waving her arm at Mike, then patting herself. Probably telling Mike who she is.
But too late. The madness seeped in. Mike has been locked in here a very long time.
'Wait. But I don't remember this. I don't even remember wanting to kill anyone of those guards. The doctor was different, he deserved to die! I-i, I don't know.
Why is this so confusing?'
Because you are the birth Mike
'What?'
You were there, and not here A dark voice responds.
You killed, and for that you were punished. But it was not the pain that broke you. You were traumatised by that death. Who were you to decide who lived and who died? But I was there for you. I nurtured you like you were my own son. i would never abandon you, even though twice you have forsaken me. You created the Mike you are now from your own desperate subconscious. All the bad emotions you felt, apart from fear, created this new persona for you. You were buried deep within your soul. A wise move, I believe, but sad, as I could not speak to the boy I created. I was left with the monster you left behind
'You. You're the thing that was talking to me earlier, werent you?' Mike responded, reffering to the waitress.
Aye. But now I am something... different. I gained the power to talk to you, the real you, and show you, this.
The vision comes back. Past Mike is now in range of mother. She believes I, no, he, remembers her. She canot see the vectors. Oh, how loving she must have been. She reaches her arm out towards the eyes. Flash. Her fingers are falling from her arm in pieces. The vectors move with inhuman precision, dicing her horribly. She does not flinch. Is it shock? Or, is she prepared to die by her sons hands?
Inner Mike looks away as his mother is brutaly murdered with a dark, sick manner. He loots the gun, the image fades, and the voice returns.
That is the instant you really truly snapped. It was then that I deemed you worthy of this battle. Now, I will releash you. Control the monster, and you will gain it's strength. That's the theory, anyways.
The abyss fades. No more sinking, no more void. Mike's essence fills the empty void in his head. His eyes flare back, brighter than ever. He feels the pain in his horn, and that is agonising. The ribs hurt too. But, to feel pain, it shows he is alive. To him, that is much better than the void.
Mike snaps to reality. A lot of people are fighting. It looks like people who are bloodied and covered with spikes are attempting to hunt down survivors. Zeke is repelling two masked fgures who look exactly the same, but the spikes are in different places. One has none near his chest, the other is peppered with them. He is falling back, one step at a time. The two figures are lauging, hacking, slashing. The more injured one is attacking with a, no way. An arm, with it's hand wrapped around a sword. His arm is holding an arm holding a sword. The other is fighting with a knife, and both are being remarkably skilled.
"Zeke" Mike mouthed, flexing his neck, "Parties over. Let's round these leftovers up and move on to the real business at hand."
Zeke didn't turn or raise his head, but Mike knew he got the picture.
'Right. So, i'm in control. Still gotta kill people, well, after what I just saw I know I have no other choice. It's good to be back though'
He raised the left vector in an overhead swing and brought it down on the floor, gaining the attention of several undead
Mike smiled. Not the wild, bastardly grin he was now no doubt noticibly lacking, but an honest smile. The kind of warm hearted smile thay creeps you out more than the mad grin even though it's not trying to.
"Well then, let's begin. Mike Shaun has arrived"
A pink humanoid, undead, flies across the battlefield with a sword hanging from it's limp arms. It's cackles, swings, and slams the sword full force into a blocking vector. It moves it's head closer to say, "I have no lovers, boooyyy. Ha! I shall love you then! TILL DEATH DO US PART!"