Monthly Archives: February 2014

February 28, 2014 · 5:00 pm

Fun Video Friday! Pharrell Mashup (Happy Get Lucky) – Pomplamoose

Pomplamoose is a song writing duo who made their bones on YouTube doing video songs where they record themselves playing and singing and then use that footage to edit together music videos. It’s a neat concept that has been copied quite a bit. Now they are starting to do some really neat work with projection and that’s where today’s video comes in! Here is their cover/mash-up of Pharrell’s “Happy” combined with Daft Punk’s “Get Lucky”:

You can she more of their stuff at their CHANNEL.

See you next time!

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February 21, 2014 · 9:41 pm

52 in 52 Story 7 “Time Travel Sucks and Other Stories from the Society for the Betterment of Humanity”

This week has been particularly trying as I’ve tried to get this story ready and up. As I’ve been going through the 52 in 52 process a lot of my old story ideas have started racing to the front of my mind hoping that they might get a second chance at being written. This is one of those stories. Back in late 2006/2007 I was going through some significant life changes and I tried my hand at a few novels, like you do. None of them were finished and some were absolutely rubbish that never should have been typed, much less stored electronically for the ages, but there were a few gems that managed to fight their way out. This one is one of my favorites. This week is unique because I’m going to post the proto-story, that is to say that I’m going to post the original – warts and all – that I put down on paper almost a decade ago. I’ll warn you ahead of time that this is completely unedited and essentially a ‘vomit-pass” at the story and it’s pretty rough. Below that I have the new one that I have been writing, you can just skip down to that one if you want to save some time. I thought it might be interesting to see how my writing has changed in the last seven/eight years and also what hasn’t changed. I confess, I’m doing this mostly for me but some of you might be interested too.

Enjoy!

EDIT:  I took out the Proto-Story. It seems to have gotten in the way of people reading the version that I wanted them to read. 

Time Travel Sucks and Other Stories from the Society for the Betterment of Humanity

There is a bright flash of light.  It is the kind of flash that you can see through your eyelids no matter how tight they are shut. And through your hands and sunglasses and lead plates that are 3 inches thick. I know because I’ve tried just about everything except the lead plates (and that’s mostly because I don’t want to carry them around with me).  It always does, each and every time.  Then you get a flash of heat in every atom of your body, a tickle on your tongue, and a flash of cold that could freeze your nipples right off.  Your gut drops right into ground, then flips up into your throat (rookies usually throw up the first few times) before everything goes black.  It only takes a few seconds but they are the longest few seconds you’ll ever experience and it never gets any easier – never.  Getting recruited for this job is the biggest scam in the world and once you’re in there’s no going back, mostly because you never know when you’re back and I mean that in a literal sense.  My name is Jonathan Vargas but people call me Jack. I’m a time traveler.  I remember when I first found out about this gig, the video they showed; I should’ve known right then and there that this was a huge mistake.  “See the building of the pyramids, walk in the footsteps of your favorite religious figure, see ancient Rome…” bullshit.  Have I seen some of those things?  Oh sure and every day is a “new wonder and sight that is beyond imagining” it’s just that you have to watch it hiding behind crates or rocks or whatever else so that the natives don’t see you and you don’t cause a paradox that rips the time/space continuum into a million pieces.  You know what I’m rambling; let me give you a little context.

I work for the Society for the Betterment of Humanity.  As I mentioned I’m a time traveler.  That’s my job.  I’m not a scientist or in the military.  I’m not good with math or languages.  I’m just a guy, a guy who wanted an easy and exciting job and I answered the wrong ad on Craig’s List.  Seemed like a great idea at the time.  I’m thirty-five years old, I didn’t finish college, and I have spent most of my life not sure of what I want to do.  When the Society sent me the information packet it all seemed pretty farfetched, but the pitch was simple – actually the ad read just like this: “Wanted: male 25 – 40 for new job opportunity.  Long term travel required.  Seeking applicants with a taste for adventure and the unknown.”  Sure that’s me, or at least it used to be.  So I called the number and they send me a DVD (A DVD?!?!?!) which starts off like a bad sci-fi movie with a starfield moving toward the screen, kind of like warp travel on Star Trek and this voice comes on and says, “have you ever wanted to travel through time?” What you’re thinking, that’s totally what I was thinking too.  Then it starts talking about time travel and I thought they meant in the figurative sense, like going out and doing archeology or something and it’s like they know that’s what you’re thinking because the voice over comes on just when you’re thinking that and says, “no, really, we mean traveling through time and space just like the movies.”  Actually, the more I think about it, it’s possible they did know that was what I was thinking.  Who knows who could have been watching me, then they go back to the future and report about it and then the Society makes changes to the video and send it back in time so that I’ll be more convinced to join up… See this is what happens, you start to second guess everything and your mind gets all tangled up with all the different time-lines you’ve visited and it’s hard to keep straight what you changed and what originally happened and then which quantum universe you’re in determines what you can remember and… Oh forget it!  The point is time travel is not easy, it’s not fun and it’s not funny.

Then I smell it, the rancid combination of fart and puke.  I shake the trip and the smell off and my vision returns.  We are…  somewhen, but figuring that out isn’t my job.  To my right I see Dr. Aaron, she’s blonde and tall and looks like she belongs in a magazine and not the frontier lady dress that she is currently wearing. Her hair is in a ponytail and bobs all around as she swings off her pack and starts gathering her devices and notes. She is the “Brain” they sent with us this trip.  Next to her is Wills, he’s the new kid who puked.  To my left is Capt. Richard Bell, he’s leading us this time and he’s a prick.  Then there’s Stinky, the engineer who’s supposed to get us back.  He’s responsible for the fart. He does it every trip without fail, but he’s also the most requested engineer in the Society.  We appeared in a big dark building; that’s not a good start. Usually if you show up in a big dark building things get hairy. It’s like it’s a rule.  We were shooting for the American west, cowboy days.  I don’t know the exact year, they don’t tell me that stuff, nor do I know what we’re doing here but I’m always assured that I’m told what I need to know.  As I get accustomed to the dark I can see that we are in a store room, maybe a warehouse.  OK, I can work with that. There’s a lot of cover in a warehouse; a good number of hiding spots. There are crates in here, crates with writing and it’s in English.  So far so good!  Then the prick goes into it.

“Alright, people, you know the drill.  Start looking around in here and tell me if we hit our target.  Provided we are in the right time and time-line we can get started.  The sooner we start the sooner we go home.  And Vargus clean up the newbies puke.”

See, he’s a prick.
Technically we are each supposed to have a job.  Capt. Bell is the prick that tells us what to do and decides whether or not we’ve accomplished what we were supposed to while we’re here.  Dr. Aaron is the historian and medic.  She’s the one who tells us how to act while we are whenever we are, is given the “original” history that needs to be changed, and patches us up if we need it.  Her and people like her are called “Brains” by me and people like me.  Stinky, as I mentioned before, is the engineer.  They get us back from whenever we are.  I like those guys and Stinky is the best.  The only problem is that the man farts every time we travel, as you may have noticed.  It’s sick.  As if traveling isn’t hard enough then you have to deal with the dueling scents of rookie puke and Stinky’s farts. But there’s a reason why he’s the most requested engineer at the Society and it’s because he’s got the longest perfect record for getting teams home. That’s a big deal. You can put up with some pretty bad smells when they come out of a man that can bend time and space as well as he can. He’s also one of my only friends. Having this job does a number on your personal life. I had to take off my backpack to clean up the rookie’s puke.  Thankfully he paid attention to protocol and didn’t eat anything before we traveled.  It’s mostly just a wet spot on the floor.  A smelly wet spot, but all that takes is a little of my special saw dust made just for us time travelers: time dust.  I have no idea what makes it special, but we aren’t allowed to take it from the building or use it in our own time line.  See, I’m a grunt.  I get all the bullshit jobs that none of the important three want to do.  I’m here to clean spills, get food, and do whatever to make the job easier for Capt. Bell, Dr. Aaron and Stinky.  That’s what the kid is here to do too; he’s training.  He looks really young to me, maybe twenty-three.  I guess they had to start recruiting younger.  At least it looks like the green is fading from around his gills.
“You OK kid?”  It’s his first trip so I feel like I should be nice.  Besides he and I are in the same boat and it won’t hurt to have an extra hand in my corner when this trip goes to pot, and it will go to pot.

“Yeah, thanks.”  Then he spits some left over puke out of his mouth managing to miss the time dust that I’ve already spread on the floor.  I reached into my pocket and pulled out a stick of special “time gum” for him.
“Here, this will get the taste out of your mouth.”  I said it with all the sincerity I could muster seeing as how I now needed to use more time dust to cover his spit.
I guess it’s important to know that the entire team gets outfitted with special stuff for each trip.  First, and most noticeably, we get period dress.  I’m especially fond of this when we go to ancient Rome or ancient Egypt.  Dr. Aaron looks great in that stuff.  All of us have general supplies that are kept in our pockets or pouches (depending on the style of dress).  Its stuff like “time gum” which biodegrades really fast after ten minutes of chewing, a small beacon so the engineer can find us if we get lost, and even some currency appropriate to our trip.  Then there’s the special kit that we each get.  Leaders get the only weapon, usually a gun, and PDA that has mission info in it.   Brains have a similar PDA but with a full “original” history and reference material.  I say “original” because, when you’ve been doing this as long as I have, you start to realize that you end up going back quite a bit to fix mistakes from other trips.  There is no “original” history anymore; we’ve screwed so much stuff up.  Engineers have just one job, get the team home, so they get a backpack, made as time specific as possible, which has the return equipment; it looks like an old traveling salesman’s suitcase that opens up to show something that vaguely looks like an old typewriter, but where you’d expect to see the keys there are dials and switches. Where you’d put paper is a large glass cylinder that spins and fills with electrical discharge. Wires come out of everything on it and it always smells like it’s going to catch fire. It’s totally archaic, but it’s my favorite piece of equipment because it gets us home.  Grunts like me get a time-suitable backpack filled with all the miscellaneous stuff like the time dust, water, rations, matches – camping supplies basically – and some crazy batteries to jump the return equipment, just in case. Also, before you ask, yes we bring our own water. You know how you’re not supposed to drink the water in Mexico when you visit? Same thing when you time travel. The last thing you want is Montezuma’s Revenge when you’re three and a half centuries away from home.
The kid finally gets it together and takes off his pack.  Not only is he young but he’s kid of small too.  About five foot five and a bit lanky.  He’s got a mop of dark hair and very sharp features.  His cowboy stuff doesn’t fit him right either. He just looks awkward. He was probably a goth kid back in high school.  We start to look around the room.  I start glancing at the crates; Wills searches intently for any info that might be on them.  What he doesn’t know, and I do, is that Stinky will have it all figured out in a couple minutes.  I take a chance to sneak a look at Dr. Aaron; most of the time she’s the best part of the trip.  Back home she always looks so serious with her hair up and wearing the tan jumpsuits we all have to wear at the Society, but in costume that’s a whole different deal.  She’s about five foot four – great height – with blonde hair down to her shoulders.  Soft features and a button nose that twitches when she thinks too hard.  Her eyes are green and sparkle.  She looks like she belongs in a magazine. I would love to see her naked.  The frontier lady get-up isn’t the most flattering thing she’s worn, but I’ll take what I can get.  If only we were in ancient Rome or Egypt, or maybe she could just wear a French maid outfit.  Yeah, that’d be good.

Before I get caught staring Stinky gets our attention, “Got it! Looks like we hit the right spot, with an extra six hours to spare.”  That was good news; we have time to eat!
“Very good,” Bell sounded cocky. What a prick. “Team, let’s mobilize and see if we can put ourselves up in the local hotel.”
Dr. Aaron looked up from her tablet as if she was in a video for a swimsuit calendar, at least that’s what I saw. “If we arrived where we should have then we should be inside the warehouse at the edge of town.”
“We’re wherever the co-ordinates that were given to me point to,” Stinky started putting away the return equipment and getting it packed away. As he was closing up the case we heard the opening of and saw a beam of daylight shine in from a door that was behind a stack of crates. Everyone froze, as is protocol, and the Captain put his hand on the six-shooter he was equipped with for the mission.
“Whoever you are, I heard ya’! You better come out or I’ll fill every square inch of this building with bird shot!” It was an angry native! Those are the worst kind. “Come on out, now. I’m serious!” And he sounds old and nervous, a bad combination in an already bad scenario. Somebody needed to fix this.
Dr. Aaron made the first move, “Hello? I’m afraid that we were just looking for some shelter.” A woman’s voice did have a way of diffusing these situations. “I’m coming out from behind the boxes now with my husband. Please don’t shoot us.” As she spoke she gave us the hand signal to hide. Wills, Stinky and I did just that as quietly as possible making sure that we were in place by the time she and Bell were visible. She introduced the two of them to the native and gave the approved cover story about being new in town from back east and received the anticipated hospitality. Soon the three of them were all chuckles and apologies and they left with him, hopefully to accomplish the assignment.
This is always the boring part of the work. Eventually the Brain and the Captain will go off and get the job done. Sometimes they take a grunt with them, but I prefer it when they don’t. When things go wrong, as they sometimes do, the grunt is the one who won’t make it back. They don’t pay me enough for that. While they were off doing what it is they do, the three of us stayed back to sweep the area for temporal bogeys and then prepped for the eventual departure. As grunts and engineer, we are tasked with staying in place unless forced to evacuate by extraordinary or life threatening circumstances. It sounds like the Society is concerned for our safety, but the truth is they want to mitigate the risk of time-stream errors and paradoxes. They don’t want our corpses stinking up the timeline and they go to extreme measures to make sure it doesn’t happen. Since our fearless leader and the Brain were now out of our presence the countdown started, for this mission it is four hours past action point. That may sound a little confusing. If the team is ever separated, and we almost always are, then there is a predetermined time when everyone is due to rendezvous at the original arrival point. That time is determined in relation to the “action point” which is the thing in history that we are attempting to alter. So in this case we arrived about six hours prior to the action point and then we will wait a maximum of four hours after that point before Stinky, Wills and I crank up the machine and go back to our native time and space. Typically we are out pretty quickly after the action point, but as I’ve mentioned Capt. Bell is a prick and he likes to show off, especially if the assigned Brain is as attractive as Dr. Aaron. If I could I’d bring a book to read to pass the time, but I can’t because it might get left behind causing a paradox. Playing cards, you may ask, can you bring playing cards to pass the time? Nope, same problem. Playing cards from the present (future?) are significantly different from the past so they could cause a paradox. Music? Nope, paradox. Smart phone? Nope, paradox. Hell the PDA’s that the mission Captains and Brains use were just recently certified and had to be outfitted with a self-destruct device just in case they are lost or left behind. We don’t even get to pack our stuff, everything is packed for you at the Society and then you get thoroughly searched before departure. So what do we do to pass the time? Every grunt has their ways, most break protocol and purchase something from the current time period to occupy thier time, but I personally like to play a little game I came up with called Ration Bar Poker. One of the few things that we all bring with us are the ration bars. They are each printed with a serial number on the packaging so that the Society can keep track of where each bar is assigned. These serial numbers are a combination of numbers and letters ten characters long, so you play it a bit like ten-card stud. You break up the bar itself into five pieces and that becomes your betting money for the game. Depending on the expected duration we could each be carrying up to ten of fifteen of these bars and that can pass a good amount of time. The packaging is also one of the few things that we carry with us that doesn’t instantly biodegrade. The kid and I have to make sure that all of the trash is picked up before we go. We tucked ourselves into a back corner of the warehouse where we were out of direct sight of the door and got ready to wait.
“So this is what we do? We just wait here?” The kid, Wills, had been so quiet until now that I was surprised at the sound of his voice. He stood awkwardly by his pack, his right hand gripping his left arm and kneading it.
“Pretty much,” I told him. “Pull up a crate, I’ll show you how we play poker out here.” I pulled a bar from my pack and waved it with a big smile. I was feeling a little extra peckish and was looking forward to eating my winnings.
Sticky snorted, “No way, Jack.” Then he looked at the kid, “Don’t fall for it. Before you know it he’ll have all your food and he’s terrible at sharing.” Stinky laughed, the kid gave a small smile. I punched Stinky on the arm.
“Great! Now what do we do? We have a whole day to kill.” I leaned back on my pack on the ground and tore open the bar in my hand and started gnawing on it. Stinky just shrugged and lay out on the ground to take a nap.
The kid walked up to me, “I guess you could show me how to do stuff? This is my first mission.” He had a point. I was supposed to train him and I guess now was as good a time as any. It was certainly better than just sitting around for the next nine hours. I told him to grab his pack and I took him through his job as a grunt.
After fifteen minutes there was nothing else that I could tell the kid about being a grunt.
“So, we’re, like, the team bitches?” Wills asked with a completely reasonable level of offence.
“Well, yeah, I prefer the term “gofer” or “support,” but, yes, essentially we are the team bitches. The most I’ve had to do in my last 4 missions is put down some of this time dust on puddles of puke.” You could see the disappointment come across his face. I suddenly felt really bad for him. What did they tell him to get him to sign up? Wills turned around and walked away. I gave him his space and went and had some water and ate again. We were still over eight hours away from departure, but I didn’t want to eat too much later otherwise I might puke on the return trip and so far I have a pretty good record of not puking. I plopped myself on the ground and ate while Wills sat and faced the wall of the warehouse.
The hours passed slowly. The sun started to set and we heard the piano in the saloon off in the distance. I always wondered what real cowboy whiskey tasted like. It’s a shame I couldn’t run over really quick and have a drink – but, you know, paradox. Besides we were close to the action point and it may be in that very saloon where something happens that may mean the future for humanity or the destruction of it, it’s so hard to tell. Then the door opened and closed, we followed protocol and froze.
“Let’s go!” It was the prick. Capt. Bell rounded the boxes looking for us with Dr. Aaron behind him.
Stinky woke up with a start, “All set, Captain?”
“Yes, this mission was a success. Let’s get back.” He had a shit eating grin on his face and looked back at Dr. Aaron who shook her head.
“Yes, I need to get the smell of cow pies out of my hair.” She moved next to the rest of us as Stinky opened up the case for the return equipment and started working the dials.
I started cleaning up my area and doing an idiot check for any last minute time bogeys that I’d need to cover up or collect. I called to the kid who was still over by the wall, “C’mon Wills, let’s go home.” He picked up his pack and moved slowly over by Capt. Bell. Stinky was hunched over the equipment. Sweat was building on his balding head and he kept wiping his mustache. Working with the equipment is always a delicate operation.
Then we heard a mumble out of Wills. I looked up at him and he was standing there with his head low and holding his left arm again with his right hand kind of twisting on his center of gravity.
“What was that Wills?” Capt. Bell asked.
“I don’t want to go.” Wills looked like a sad child. I was embarrassed for him.
Captain Bell smirked and put his arm around Wills, “This is your first trip, right? I know, it’s a really amazing thing that we’re doing here, we are traveling through time, but it also means that we have to be very cautious and so we can’t stay.” Bell was being as friendly as a prick can be, but it wasn’t enough. Wills made a face that was a twist of anger and the start of tears and then grabbed the six-shooter off of Bell’s belt! He shot Bell and then turned the gun on Stinky! I called out and that distracted him enough, but the gun went off and hit the return equipment. Dr. Aaron screamed out and Stinky started swearing. The kid turned the gun on Stinky again, but I was able to reach him before he could get another shot off. I had the gun in my hands and we were wrestling as I heard the equipment squeal in ways I had never heard it sound before and Stinky swearing up a storm. I started feeling the warmth that comes with the trip and my vision started to white out – at least we were still going home. The brightness came and then we were elsewhen.
I came too and I was on a dusty plain. No smells this time, except for the dust in the air. I looked to my left and I saw the device, sputtering and whirling down. I saw half of the body of Capt. Bell, the lower half. Stinky and Dr. Aaron were nowhere in sight, but Wills was here, he came too quicker than I did. He was standing away from me and still had the gun. He was looking out over the plain and I could hear him crying. Then the panic set in.
“What the hell did you do?!” I screamed at him as I ran. I wanted to tackle him and shake him! I wanted to know what the hell he was thinking! I wanted to know what they told him to get him to sign up. Before I could reach him he turned around a put the gun to his head.
“I’m sorry.” Then he pulled the trigger. The sound didn’t echo, there was nothing around for the sound to bounce off of, but it stopped me in my tracks. There’s a protocol for dead bodies in the time line. A bit of kit I don’t like to even talk about. Like I said, the Society doesn’t want our bodies stinking up the timeline and they have some very extreme measures to make sure it doesn’t happen. It’s a device, every member of the team has one but they so rarely get used. Normally if someone dies in the field we just bring the bodies back with us so they can be properly buried or whatever. In rare cases, like this one, we each have a very small device, the size of a make-up compact, which we use to dispose of bodies. We each carry one, just in case. We use them whether the body is dead or not, like a hyper functional cyanide capsule that also eliminates any evidence of the body. It’s the panic device, a last resort. I always keep mine in a separate pocket away from anything else I may use; I really don’t like to think about it. But now here I was, with one and a half bodies in a place I did not recognize alone with a piece of equipment I do not know how to use.
I went to Wills and took off his pack. I kicked the gun away and found his device in his front pocket. I set it on his chest and watched his whole body burn and vaporize away. It felt like I got punched in the gut. I felt a tear in my eye. I went and did the same for Bell’s legs. Then I gathered Wills and my packs together next to the return device. I sat down next to it and broke down. I didn’t know what to do with myself. I pulled out my own device and looked at it; so much power in the size of a compact. The wind blew at me as I sat and I tried to prepare myself for what I had to do.
Then I smelled something, something familiar – it smelled like an electrical fire! The return equipment! It wasn’t dead! I pulled it closer to me and looked at it. It was definitely run down, and you could see the damage that the bullet made, but the central cylinder was still in one piece and there was still charge flowing in it, I figured that had to be a good thing! I put my device back in its pocket and started messing with the dials and switches. I’d never been this close before, now I saw that there was a small readout displaying red numbers that I didn’t understand. As I turned wheels some of the numbers changed, when I flipped a switch and then turned the wheel some of the other numbers would change. I was just changing numbers wherever I could. I could still get home – as long as I knew where home was. I started thinking really hard about anything that Stinky had ever said, anything that could have been a clue, but he never talked about coordinates, only that he had gotten us to them. And I knew that this could be tricky, because not everyone was as good as he was. In my panic and desperation I made a decision. I took all the supplies that I could out of Wills pack and added them to mine. I grabbed the gun with its three bullets and threw it in there too. Then I sat at the machine, whirled some dials and hit the switch. The machine started revving up, the cylinder spun, and I got that warm feeling. What’s the worst that could happen, I figured, maybe I end up at home or somewhere with more people, but I had to try something. The light got bright, I felt the heat and I was gone…

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Filed under 52 in 52, 52 stories in 52 weeks, fiction, sci-fi, short story, time travel, working for a living

· 5:00 pm

Fun Video Friday! Wolverine Cat!

Sometimes I feel like our cat Charlie does this without the fancy claws. Regardless, this is still a better movie than X-Men Origins: Wolverine.


See you next time!

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Filed under comic movies, fun video friday, funny, video, Wolverine, YouTube

February 14, 2014 · 6:37 pm

Fun Video Friday! Friendship is Magic and Kanye West

The Ponies Anthology (Anthologies, actually) is awesome. The use of Ponies to make commentary on pop culture is, quite often, really fun and funny. One of my favorite bits is the opening of the first anthology, a parody of Kanye West’s “Power” video. Today for Fun Video Friday I present the side-by-side video of West and Ponies versions of “Power.”

For the originals you can follow these links:

Kanye West “Power”
My Little Ponies Anthology 1
Anthology 2
Anthology 3

See you next time!

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Filed under douche bags, friendship is magic, fun video friday, Kanye West, my little pony, power, video, YouTube

February 11, 2014 · 7:26 am

52 in 52 Story 6 Bloody Mary

Bloody Mary

                “She was a little girl who lived back in the olden days in a big house. Her dad was rich and never around and her step mom was mean and always called her Ugly Mary. It started to make her go crazy! Then one night when she was washing her face she looked at herself in the mirror and saw a freckle. She tried to scrub it off, but it was a freckle, it was part of her face. So then she started to scratch at it and she scratched and scratched and her face started to bleed. Well, she kept scratching, not just at the freckle but at the rest of her face! And she was scratching and scratching and pretty soon she was screaming because her whole face was getting scratched off! Downstairs they heard the bathroom mirror break and Mary’s screams and when they went upstairs to see what happened the mirror was shattered, there was blood everywhere and Mary was gone! Now if you say her name three times in the bathroom mirror Bloody Mary will appear and scratch your face off too!” Billy cackled like a witch as his sister, Sally, screamed.
                “Shut up, Billy!” Sally was really scared. Her big brother always did this to her, especially at night right before bed. “That story isn’t true!”
                “It totally is!” Billy’s eye’s got really wide and his voice got quiet, like he was about to tell a secret. “Freddy’s older sister did it once.”
                “Freddy doesn’t have a sister!”
                “Not anymore!” Billy laughed and laughed and then they heard their Dad coming up to tuck them in.
                “Quiet down you two! Billy quit scaring your sister.” Dad was tall, at least as far as six year old Sally could tell. He had neatly cut brown hair and a sly smile. His glasses made him look smart and Sally liked that she had a smart Dad; she just wished that she also had a smart brother. Billy rolled his eyes and left Sally’s bed and went back into his own room next door, the room closer to the bathroom. Dad whapped Billy lightly on the back of the head as they passed each other in the doorway, “You get into bed, mister, I’ll be there soon,” then he sat next to Sally as she pulled her My Little Pony covers up to her neck. “You know he’s teasing you, right? None of his stories are real.”
                “Billy’s a jerk!” She said it loud enough for him to hear. She was still pretty scared, even with Dad here in her room.
                “I know, I know. It’s ok.” Dad brushed her hair with his hand and tried to calm her down. “Sally eight year old boys have been telling that story to their kid sisters since I was your age, even longer than that. It’s just an old scary story and it isn’t true. Freddy never had a sister of any age.” Sally still didn’t look convinced. “And, the nice thing is, your brother’s bedroom is closer to the bathroom so Bloody Mary would get him first.” Dad tickled her when he said the last bit and that made her laugh. She felt safer and Dad was right, Bloody Mary would have to get Billy first and at least then she’d have time to run away. “Are you going to be OK?” Sally nodded and hugged her doll. Dad kissed her on the forehead and went to the door. “Good night sweetheart.”
                “Good night Daddy.” Dad turned off the light and shut the door about halfway. “Can you leave the hall light on?”
                Dad poked his head back in, “Sure thing honey. I love you.”
                “I love you too.” Dad went in to say good night to Billy and Sally listened to him get in trouble as she closed her eyes and hugged her doll tight. Billy earned getting in trouble; she didn’t want to think about some scary girl who lived in the bathroom mirror! Sally fell asleep hearing the sounds of her Dad’s voice and her brother apologizing.
               
Scratch.
                Sally twitched in her sleep at the sound.
Scratch. Scratch. Scratch.
                She woke up, a little groggy, looking around for the source of the noise. She didn’t see it in her room, but it was dark. The hall light was out.
Scratch. Scratch. Scratch. Scratch. Scratch. Scratch. There was a muffled voice too, it sounded like whimpering. Sally got scared, but wasn’t sure what to do. She listened and it seemed to stop. She sat up in bed and held her doll very close.
“Billy?” She whispered hoping it was loud enough for him to hear but not loud enough to get the attention of anything scary. There was no response. She tried again, “Billy?” Then she heard the soft whimpering again. Maybe Billy was having a nightmare? Maybe he scared himself? Sally got brave and started to get out of bed. She felt the carpet underneath her feet and pushed the covers off of her body. She stood up and started toward the door. Even though the lights were out she could see due to the light of the moon and street lamps outside of her window. It gave a very pale glow to all of the surfaces in her room and the hall where the door was open. As she got closer to the door she heard the soft whimpering again, it sounded like Billy was crying into his pillow. Then the noise again: Scratch. Scratch. Scratch. Scratch. Scratch. Scratch. Scratch. Scratch. Scratch. Scratch. Scratch. Scratch. Scratch. Scratch. Sally opened her door enough to get into the hallway. Scratch. Scratch. Scratch. Scratch. Scratch. Scratch. She rounded the corner to the door of Billy’s room. Scratch. Scratch. Scratch. Scratch. Scratch. Scratch. She saw Billy’s bed and someone leaning over it. Scratch. Scratch. Scratch. Scratch. Scratch. Scratch.
“Mommy?” But it wasn’t her Mom. The figured turned sharp and where there should have been a face there were just bloody strips of flesh, the creature’s hands were crooked into claws that dripped with blood and in the bed Sally saw what was left of her brother’s face and she screamed!
Her Mom and Dad came rushing into her room telling her it was OK, that it was all just a bad dream and she saw her brother yawning and wiping his eyes in the doorway trying to figure out what was wrong.  It was all a terrible nightmare! A terrible, terrible nightmare and it took Sally forever to get calmed down. Her Mom slept with her that night and Dad had a stern talk with her brother about how mean it is to scare his sister. It was just a nightmare, just a nightmare.
The next morning was Saturday and the sun shone brightly into Sally’s window to greet her as she woke up. Mom was gone, but that was OK since it was day time. Sally could hear her downstairs in the kitchen cooking breakfast. The TV was on, it sounded like Billy was watching Power Rangers, and all was right with the world again. Sally got up and put her doll under the covers and tucked her in, she still needed some rest, and then went to the bathroom. Sally walked down the hall, past Billy’s room, turned on the bathroom light and closed the bathroom door behind her. There were no windows in the bathroom, just the light from the bulbs over the sink. She sat to potty and nervously looked over to the bathroom mirror. It looked fine, there were no cracks or strange reflections or scary girls in it. But Sally was scared to look away. As she finished she looked as quickly as she could to keep her eyes on the mirror as much as possible. Then she had to wash her hands. Sally went to the sink and stared herself in the eyes as she reached for the faucet. She stopped, and then she turned around and opened the door. She felt safer with the door open; there was a place to run if the door was open. She turned back to the sink, locking eyes with her reflection and washed her hands. She let out a big breath, dried her hands and turned out the light. She did it! And no scary girl showed up!
Sally walked down stairs and everything was as it should be: the TV was on, it was Power Rangers, Dad was at the table reading the paper and Mom was cooking breakfast. Wait, where was Billy? She walked a little further toward the TV and then Billy jumped out from behind the couch, his hands like claws and wearing a hockey mask! Sally screamed and ran toward Dad.
Both Mom and Dad yelled at him, “Billy!” Sally cried a little as Dad held her and Billy pulled off his mask.
“Billy, what have we told you?” Dad asked with a very disappointed look on his face.
“You go to your room, mister,” Mom was pointing at him with her spatula from the kitchen, “there will be extra chores for you today, young man.”
“Aw, c’mon! I’m sorry, Sally.” That was the worst thing that Mom could have said to him. There were very few things that bothered Billy and “chores” was definitely at the top of the list!
“No, right now, upstairs!” Mom was starting to walk out of the kitchen; Billy took the hint and booked it to his room.
Sally yelled up at him as he ran, “Maybe Bloody Mary will get you!” Her parents shook their heads and went back to a normal Saturday morning. There were pancakes and orange juice and My Little Ponies. Sally and Dad went to the park and played on the playground equipment. She saw her friend Jenny and they played in the sand. When they got home that afternoon it was still nice out so Mom brought her some lemonade while Billy raked leaves in the front yard with a sour expression on his face. Sally laughed because he had leaves in his shaggy brown hair. Mom helped her dress up one of her dolls and got the little plastic shoes on (they were always so hard for Sally to get on by herself). All in all it was a pretty wonderful Saturday.
For dinner they had one of Sally’s favorites, fried chicken. It wasn’t just her favorite; it was Dad and Billy’s too. Mom made really good fried chicken that tasted even better than the kind at the fast food places Dad would take them too when Mom didn’t have time to make hers. It was crispy and juicy and you could dip it in the mashed potatoes and gravy and make a “chicken-pop;” Sally made that up. Billy would always peel the skin off of his chicken and play with it before he ate it.
“Look, Dad, it’s like monster flesh, rawr!” He had a flap of skin stuck to his cheek and was making faces and sticking his tongue out like he was a zombie. Sally started a bit, it reminded her of her nightmare.
“Billy,” Dad took the chicken skin off of his face and started wiping the grease off, “stop playing with your food and eat it.”
“But Dad, I want to be a monster!”
“You are a monster; an eight year old monster who’d better eat.” Dad wiped his fingers and went back to his own food.
“Billy what has gotten into you lately?” Mom asked between bites. Billy didn’t answer he just picked up the chicken skin and shoved it in his mouth with a big smile. Mom and Dad laughed and Sally giggled a little. It was just a nightmare, it wasn’t real.
That night they watched a movie, “Finding Nemo” (it was the only one that she and Billy agreed on watching, ever). Then it was time for bed. Both Billy and Sally ran up to their rooms and put on their pajamas. Sally’s were pink and had a big grey silhouette of a cat on the front. Billy’s looked like a red and blue race car jump suit. When she had her p.j’s on and had put her clothes in the hamper she went to the bathroom to brush her teeth. The bathroom light was out. The hall light was on, but the bathroom light wasn’t and it was really dark past the door. Sally looked as hard as she could at the inside of the bathroom trying to see if she could make out anything wrong, especially in the mirror. She crept closer, not wanting to move too much just in case there was someone or something in there. Billy raced past her and bumped her! She screamed a little and he looked back.
“Sorry!” Then Billy flipped on the light and water and started brushing his teeth. Well, at least that probably meant it was safe in there. Sally went in and got her toothbrush and started brushing her teeth too. Billy finished, spit, and rushed out. As he was leaving he closed the door behind him and turned out the lights, laughing as he did it.
Sally screamed! She dropped her toothbrush on the floor and started pulling on the door knob and banging on the door, “Let me out! Mom! Dad! Help!” She kept screaming and pounding and started crying. Billy was still laughing. Sally could hear Dad coming up stairs and yelled at Billy to get away from the door.  It opened and Dad turned on the light and picked her up holding her close as she cried.
“What the hell were you thinking, Billy?!” Dad was really mad. He didn’t like to use those words normally. “This is your sister and you are scaring the crap out of her!” Billy started crying too, softly at first, but it got stronger with each breath.
“I’m sorry,” he said through the tears, “I was just joking around.” He started sobbing.
“Well this is where your joking around got us. Get in your room.” Dad walked Sally back to her bedroom and put her on the bed.
“I dropped my tooth brush.” She said through sniffles.
“It’s ok, we’ll get you a new tooth brush and take it out of your brother’s allowance.” Dad sighed, “I don’t know why he’s doing this, but he’ll stop.”
“Promise?” Sally wiped her eyes with her sleeve.
“Promise.” Then Dad hugged her tight and Mom came in wearing her robe and sat on Sally’s bed. “I’m going to go have a talk with your brother.” Dad walked out with a stern look on his face.
Mom scooted closer to Sally and hugged her tight singing softly to her and rocking her. That made her feel better. In the room next door she could hear Billy crying and Dad being very angry. It wasn’t clear what Dad said he’d take away, but when he came out of Billy’s room and closed the door he was holding Billy’s Game Boy and a lunchbox full of Hot Wheels cars. She could hear Billy crying in his bed. Mom rocked her and she fell asleep.
The room was dark, pitch black, the kind of dark where you can’t even see your hand in front of your face. There was no noise, it was silent. It was too silent. Sally stood in her pajamas not sure which way to go. “Mom?” she called out. There was a hollow echo, but no answer. “Dad?” again and echo with no answer. “Billy?”
“Billy’s not here.” The voice was wet, wheezing. And came from ahead of her, at least she was pretty sure.
“Who’s there?” Sally called out, her eyes tearing in fear.
“Say my name…” the voice slithered.
Sally squealed in fear, “Who is it?”
“Say. My. Name!” The voice was direct and getting closer.
“I don’t want to! You leave me alone!” Sally started to panic and tried to run but didn’t know which direction to turn.”
“SAY MY NAME!” The voice was screaming now and coming closer, faster! Sally screamed and turned away from the voice and just started running. She ran into someone and fell back on her bottom. She tried to get up but she could hear the footsteps of whomever she ran into approaching. She tried to back up but the face, the horrible face she had seen in her nightmare before all bleeding ribbons of flesh hanging off of a ripped and gouged face with strings of bloody brown hair, came at hers from the dark, “BLOODY MARY!”
Sally screamed and sat straight up in bed! She kept screaming even as the hall light came on and Mom and Dad came rushing in, Mom hugging and rocking her and Dad frustrated and pacing the room. Billy managed to sleep through this one. Sally explained to Mom and Dad what happened in her nightmares. She described the dark and how it was super quiet and the scary voice that she heard. How it said that Billy wasn’t there. Mom and Dad exchanged a look and went back to consoling Sally. Dad slept with her that night.
Sunday morning Sally woke up and heard Billy crying in his room. She got up and grabbed her doll and peaked around the corner, his door was shut. She couldn’t see anything. She went down stairs and went to say hi to her Mom and Dad. Dad was sipping coffee and reading the paper and Mom was cooking eggs.
“Hi sweetie,” Mom said with a smile.
Dad got up from the kitchen table and walked over to her, “Did you sleep better?” He mussed her hair as he asked.
“Yes. Why is Billy crying?”
Dad made a bit of a sad face and kneeled next to her, “your brother is in trouble for giving you nightmares. He knows better and so he has to stay in his room without TV or his video games or the computer. You’ve had nightmares two nights in a row and he’s not supposed to scare you like that.”
Mom chimed in, “He needs to learn that it isn’t funny to scare you like that.”
“OK. I don’t want him to be sad, though.” Mom and Dad looked at each other with faces that showed how they thought her thoughtfulness was adorable and heartfelt.
“He’ll be OK,” Dad put his hand on her shoulder. “Right now I think he’s just upset that he can’t play Pokemon.”
Billy came down for breakfast and Dad kept reminding him that it wasn’t OK to scare his sister. He had chores to do again, which he hated, but by the end of the day he had his Game Boy back and was back to playing Pokemon.
That night when it was time for bed Sally put on her cat pajamas and went right into the bathroom to brush her teeth. As promised Dad got her a new toothbrush (with some of Billy’s allowance) and she started brushing. She looked down to spit and when she looked back up she saw Billy standing behind her! She screamed a little which surprised him and he jumped back a little knocking his head on the door jamb hard enough that he started to cry a little.
He fell to the floor and rubbed his head, “What’d you do that for?”
Sally got mad, “You scared me!”
“Nuh uh, I was just standing there waiting to brush my teeth!” Mom and Dad came up to see what all the ruckus was about.
“What happened?” Mom sounded exasperated.
Sally and Billy both started talking, “He scared me!” “She scared me!” “He was just standing there…” “I wanted to brush my teeth but she screamed and I hit my head…”
“Enough!” Dad was loud and it quieted them both immediately. “This needs to stop. No more scaring, whether on purpose or on accident. Finish getting ready, it’s time for bed.” Sally wiped her mouth and walked back to her room with Mom while Dad waited for Billy to finish brushing his teeth. Mom read her a book and kissed her forehead and turned out the light, leaving the hall light on. Dad put Billy to bed and said good night as he passed her room. She could hear them watching the TV downstairs and she fell asleep knowing they were still awake.
She was in the hallway and the light was dim. It was on, but it was as if the bulb could only make half the amount of light that it was supposed to. Her bedroom door was shut and so was Billy’s. she turned to face the bathroom and saw Billy standing there, stone still, in his pajamas just staring into the dark bathroom.
Skree. Skree. Skree. Skree. The sound was coming from the bathroom. Skree. Skree. Skree. Skree. Skree. Skree. Skree. Skree. Skree. Skree. Skree. Skree. Sally was scared to get any closer but she didn’t know what to do about her brother. Skree. Skree. Skree. Skree. She crept up behind him, shaking as she moved.
“Billy?” she whispered.
“No Billy.” It was the voice. Sally froze in place and felt all the blood leave her body. “No Billy no more!” Then Billy’s body fell backward, landing face up on the ground. His face was scratched off and when Sally looked up she saw Bloody Mary in the mirror scraping at the glass to get out! Skree! Skree! Skree! Skree! Skree! Skree! Skree! Skree! Skree! Skree! Skree! Skree! Skree! Skree! Skree! Skree! Skree! Sally screamed and screamed and the voice cackled and screamed back! The glass of the mirror tore like skin and Bloody Mary crawled out of the mirror her face sticking to the jagged edges of the torn mirror glass, pouring blood over everything, her clawed hands articulating on the faucet handles and her legs operating spider-like as she pulled them though.
Sally tried to pull away but Billy’s lifeless hand grabbed her ankle causing her to fall. Mary jumped from a crouched position on the sink to the door jamb and then to the ceiling in the hall, crawling across it and leaving trailed of blood drooling over everything. She was directly above the screaming Sally and turned her head all the way around to stare at her, “NO MORE BILLY!”
Sally screamed herself awake and she found herself standing next to Billy’s bed where Billy was screaming now too having been woken up by her screams. He had scratches on his face, nothing deep, but they were bleeding a little and there was blood and a little skin in Sally nails. Sally started crying and Billy did too as he pulled his knees up to his chest and got as far away from Sally as he could. Mom and Dad came rushing in turning on the light as they did. They found Sally sobbing with bloody finger tips and Billy crying with wide terrified eyes. Mom gasped and ran to Sally. Dad went to Billy and inspected his face.
“My God, Sally did you do this?” Dad looked scared too. Sally couldn’t stop crying and didn’t answer. Mom just shook her head. Dad ran into the bathroom to grab some cotton balls and hydrogen peroxide. He turned on the light and stopped dead in his tracks. Dad grabbed his mouth and backed out.
Mom asked, “Honey what’s wrong?” Dad didn’t answer. Mom left Sally and walked over to Dad, “What is it?” she looked in the bathroom and gasped. Sally didn’t want to be alone so she ran to her parents. Mom tried to cover Sally’s eyes, but Sally saw it, words scrawled in thin blood on the mirror: “Bloody Mary doesn’t like Billy”.
“Mom!” Billy yelled from his room. They all ran back to him.
Billy never scared his little sister again.
The end.

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Filed under 52 in 52, 52 stories in 52 weeks, Bloody Mary, fiction, horror, projects, scary, short story

February 7, 2014 · 5:00 pm

Fun Video Friday! A Cat & a Vacuum Cleaner

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February 4, 2014 · 12:03 am

52 in 52 Story 5 “A Tale of Sergio Malik”

This week’s story is an old idea that has been sitting in my head for years. I think it requires just a little bit of set-up for context. It takes place in the Warhammer 40,000 universe. Warhammer 40,000 (or 40k for short) a table top war game that I used to actively play. It has a very rich background and has been the setting for dozens and dozens of best selling paperbacks. When I was in my late twenties I played one of the spin-off games, Inquisitor. Unfortunately this game is no longer supported by Games Workshop so I don’t have a link to it specifically. In that game you get to create a variety of characters and the subject of this week’s story was one of those characters, Sergio Malik. He, along with his boss, Inquisitor Guildenstern, and Judge Regina Burgun would race around the galaxy hunting mutants, aliens and demons. It was a really cool, really geeky game. In fact, here’s a picture of them that I took for a campaign we were running:

Regina’s a bit out of focus, but that’s OK, she’s not in this story.

Anyway, this story is written assuming that you are familiar with the universe. For those who aren’t I’ve included THIS LINK to the 40k wiki so you can look up anything you have questions about. For those of you who just want to get to the story know this: it is the far future, the 41st millennium, humanity is on the downslide and fighting wars on every front. Humanity worships it’s greatest leader, the God Emperor who’s body is kept barely alive by a machine called The Golden Throne. Technology is no longer understood and treated like magic. In the grim darkness of the far future there is only war.

A Tale of Sergio Malik

The ferrocrete of the partition began to crumble under the punishment of stubber slugs and laser blasts.  The echo of the impacts rattled Sergio’s head and made him dizzy with a staccato repetition of beats as each shot aspired to find a chink in the wall. Each blast wanted to kill Sergio Malik as much as his attackers wanted him dead.  It was not the first time he had faced death, and it was most certainly not the last time he would either.  It was also not the first time he had fought alone, although he never liked to; its so much better to have someone watching your back, or at least someone – anyone – who could take a bullet in your place.  He had managed to hide himself in this little cubby, a small box of ferrocrete that once must have contained some artifact of the Adeptus Mechanicus that could have maintained this section of the hive or heated water or whatever those things do.  Now it was just a four-foot square of wires and empty tubes three feet above the floor and one foot below it, with a dash of Sergio’s blood for color, and while it was providing his only protection it could just as easily become his final resting place.  They knew where he was; that much was plain, and it was only a matter of time before they figured out that he wasn’t shooting back.  Sergio’s stubber was empty, the three clicks he heard, actually felt more than heard, were evidence of that.  His revolver, Tania the Angle of Salvation, had only three full chambers; each one was loaded with a simple slug, none of them were explosive or ‘smart’ or filled with an acid that might cover the whole of the area.  Nope, just a three simple dum dums.  Dum dum, that’s how he felt now.
            Silence.
            The shooting had stopped.  Footfalls and scuffles along the floor; they were moving!  Maybe they thought he was dead?  More likely they were closing in for the kill.  Kill?  More like slaughter.  Instincts honed by decades of running in low circles kicked back in.  Without the distraction of the swarm of bullets he felt much more like himself.
The footsteps stopped and there was some hesitant shuffling. “He might be dead.”
            Another voice called out, “I didn’t see him go down.”
            The first voice, closer than the others, called back, “I got ‘im I know it!”
            Another voice called, it was coming from Sergio’s left, “You never get ‘em!” Laughter erupted from the men he was fighting. It sounded like four altogether.
            “Quiet!” a voice commanded.  That made five of them left, but only one of them sounded like he knew what he was doing. Still, five was two too many for three bullets.  “Gersh, go look; make sure Tygon really did get ‘im!”  Another burst of laughter. Good they were distracted!  The walls of the cubby suddenly felt cavernous as Sergio prepped to leap up.  This was a gamble, a horrible gamble.  There was no way to guarantee he would get out of here alive, but maybe dying was a lot better than definitely dying.  The quilted flack armor that Sergio wore was now tattered and had a few more holes than he was comfortable with; the plate of ablative armor that he had attached that very morning was now dented and useless.  The blue of his vest was now crimson and purple in some places where he was dripping life, although thankfully that was abating.  Everything was sore, even through his rising adrenalin, and Sergio knew that, if he lived, tomorrow he might be sorry that he had. The metal of the hive’s decking betrayed Gersh’s location as he closed in on Sergio’s cube.  Sloppy, just plain sloppy; it was a wonder that any of these weird cults ever got anything done, ‘course usually all they want to do is raise a menace and try to sew the roots of dissent among the populace, things like that were simple with a gun in your hand.  A gun in his hand, that was actually essential to Sergio’s plan.  Surely they wouldn’t send someone with an empty weapon to investigate?  Actually they might, but he needed to believe that they wouldn’t.  He would use one precious shot as Gersh leaned over the rim.  One shot that would kill him and then he would pull the body, and his weapon, into the cubby so that Sergio could use it.  As Gersh got closer, Sergio got ready and the pain that he had been feeling lifted. 
Gersh got closer and confidence seemed to fill each of his steps.  A shadow, both deadly and hopeful, hesitantly peered over the edge into the cubby. First a beefy arm that ended in a gun barrel, which was then followed by a hooded head that eclipsed the light directly above Sergio’s head.  As Sergio’s eye’s adjusted to the new dimness he could see the moment of realization come over Gersh’s face that Sergio wasn’t dead and then the moment of horror as Gersh saw Tania, the Angel of Salvation, pointed at him.  Time rubber banded as the hammer fell in Tania and a chemical explosion pushed a slug of soft, dense metal forward at super sonic speed.  It spun down the barrel of Tania and escaped in a cloud of heat and residue.  Gersh’s face didn’t even have time to change expression before it was cratered and torn apart.  Sergio reached up with his right hand and grabbed the cultist by the robe under his chin. He gave one sharp tug and the body, complete with rifle, fell into the cubby next to him.  Then the rubber band snapped and things felt almost too fast to handle.
Sergio’s hand wrapped around Gersh’s rifle as the sound of yelling and feet came running at his cubby.  A las gun, Guard issue and with a healthy charge; these dissidents were well equipped for a bunch of cultist scum – maybe the boss was right to check them out.  Sergio grabbed it and clicked it to burst fire with his right hand while his left put Tania back in her holster. This wasn’t how he was supposed to spend his day. This wasn’t even how this investigation was supposed to go. The plan was to integrate into the hive, see what the locals could tell him about the dissidents in the Under Hive, and then report back to the boss whether it was worth further investigation. The las gun in his hands was proof enough that there would need to be a full Inquisitorial investigation. Now he just needed to escape.  
Before this all began, before he was seconds away from dying in a hive city thousands of thousands of light years away from where he started, Sergio Malik was enjoying the benefits that went along with being in the personal entourage of an Inquisitor of the Ordo Hereticus. Of all of the people in the God-Emperor’s galaxy no one was granted more respect or freedom than a member of His Inquisition. They lived in lavish homes with full support staffs of servitors and serfs. Sergio had access to some of the most impressive weaponry in the universe, although he preferred his own guns since they had never let him down. He was given medical care that some worlds in the Imperium hadn’t even imagined, much less had ever seen. And the food, oh the food! He had access to things he didn’t even know could be cooked, and they were all delicious! But these kinds of perks don’t come without earning them and as a gunfighter employed by one of the most dangerous men in the galaxy investigating some of the most hostile forces in the galaxy you never knew if the last meal you ate would be your last meal period. The last thing he had eaten in the hive before getting pinning in the cubby was a bowl of noodles with a protein paste broth. Definitely not as nice as the seared Rotan game bird with a lactic bean salad and a bottle of wine that was near impossible to pronounce.  When he got out of here the first thing he was going to do was learn how to pronounce that wine!
His boss is Inquisitor Balthazar Guildenstern of the Ordo Hereticus. He is a tall man with sharp features, a lean body and no hair whose mission is to root out and destroy the cancer of political and religious heresy in the God Emperor’s Imperium. It’s a grand job and not for the faint hearted. Sergio had met the Inquisitor when he was employed by one of the navigator houses as a body guard. He had been assigned to one of the children of a prominent house, an adult child with a terrible gambling problem. During a particularly expensive game where the boy had gambled away nearly all he had except for his warp eye, the gambling den was raided by Inquisitorial storm troopers. The den was in a particularly seedy part of a city that was known itself as being particularly seedy on a planet that was thought of as seedy in the first place, so when the troopers burst in the response from the gamblers inside was immediate. Weapons of all types were drawn and used. Tables were over turned to create cover. The den itself wasn’t very large, about the size of an average hab unit with two sleep spaces, so the amount of cross fire was thick and deadly. The boy panicked so Sergio, doing his job, shot and fought his way past three of the troopers, aiming for the few vulnerable spots in their armor, and dodged past and under the shooting. He grabbed the boy and dragged him into a back room where, during his earlier scouting, he had spotted a “rat hole” exit that the proprietors probably expected to use on just this sort of occasion. The proprietors didn’t make it. Sergio tossed the boy through the hole and then followed after. They made it out, he tossed a grenade back down the hole and they were just about home free when they were stopped by a squad of storm troopers lead by Inquisitor Guildenstern. The grenade went off shortly after, only the boy reacted.
Sergio holstered his weapons and the boy pissed himself. “I am Sergio Malik, body guard of the Navigator House Shantoom and this is my charge. I understand, as a citizen of the Imperium, that it is my responsibility to surrender to the will of an Inquisitor, but I am also bound by the laws governing the safety of the Navigator Houses to return this boy to his family before allowing him or myself to be taken by any acknowledged authority.” The speech was practiced and relaxed, almost blasé. Sergio knew they had been caught and wasn’t going to be able to fight his way past a squad of anyone out in the open, much less highly trained storm troopers and an Inquisitor.
Inquisitor Guildenstern smiled a small smile that looked like it almost cracked his face, “You managed to escape a gambling den full of miscreants and criminals as they were being raided by some of the best trained soldiers in the Emperor’s galaxy?”
“I did. It was surprisingly easy.” Sergio made firm eye contact with the Inquisitor, but inside he was nervous. “I should also apologize; I had to shoot a few of your troopers to do it.” The storm troopers grimaced and aimed at Sergio for that.
Inquisitor Guildenstern raised his hand to stop them, “That’s all right; you do have a duty to your house and the boy. Even he, with his degenerate habits, is more valuable than the whole of this storm trooper platoon. My question for you is could you do it again?”
Sergio was surprised, “Yes, provided there was time to scout and prepare.”
The Inquisitor nodded to himself, “Let these men go. See that they make it safely back to their transport. You, boy, curb your habits. I will speak to your elders about how I found you here. And you, Malik, inform the House of Shantoom that Inquisitor Balthazar Guildenstern wishes to retain your services for an indeterminate amount of time. I will send for you once this ruckus is cleaned up.” And then he walked away. Sergio didn’t know at the time, nor would he learn until well after, that the Inquisitor had actually had him under surveillance for over a decade.  During that time he had watched how Sergio had fought his way out of a hive city, much like the one he was trapped in now, as part of the planetary defense force when it was attacked by Eldar pirates. He saw that after his discharge the only jobs he was good at were related to violence. Sergio had been an enforcer, money collector, and gun fighter for whomever could afford his price. What the Inquisitor liked about him was that, even as a mercenary, he had integrity and actually did care about the future of humanity. That was rare, especially in a universe wrought with so much temptation. The House of Shantoom released Sergio and it was immediately apparent that he had traded up.  
That is, until you get stuck in a box with four well-armed cultists of the Dark Gods bearing down on you. Grabbing the body of Gersh as a shield, he stood and shot at the four cultists as they approached. Las shots snapped off sounding like repetitive whip cracks. Sergio had sent short bursts of fire in the general directions of the attackers as he popped up, mostly as cover and for the shock. He didn’t hit anyone, though. Now that he had clear sight, at least as clear as his sight could be around the lolling head of Gersh, he was able to place his shots better. Impacts hit Gersh’s body making sounds like popping over-ripe fruit. The stink of flash burned robes and flesh filled Sergio’s nostrils. His shots, better aimed now, downed three of the cultists quickly, their red robes flapping as they fell looking like flames that were burning out. Sergio felt a burn on his left shoulder, it was the leader. He was a better shot and in a better position. After trading shots back and forth he could feel the wet of Gersh’s viscera starting to spill on his legs. This shield wasn’t going to be good for much longer. He dropped with the body as he heard shots slap into the cubby again. The power pack on the las gun was low, only a few shots left. He was still stuck!
“You’re not getting out of this!” The cultist shouted, “I’m sending you to your corpse god and then feasting on your heart!” Then he laughed a deep guttural laugh. Sergio frowned hard and looked around at what he had: a nearly empty las gun, two slugs left in Tania, a dead shot up body, and a series of hoses and tubes in the cubby hole, none of them big enough for him to slip through…
The leader stopped laughing and noticed that, besides the hum of the machines this deep in the hive, there was no noise. He took a quick peek around the corner, no motion by the cubby hole. He swung around with his rifle and popped off a couple shots. No response. “Hey, gun fighter, lost your nerve?” No response. The leader got brave and dashed to a bit of cover closer to the cubby. No shots were fired. “I’m coming to get you, gun fighter! I won’t go down like Gersh!” No response. He dashed to a bit of cover much closer to the cubby, no shots; no movement at in, in fact. Steeling up his nerve the cult leader popped up and ran yelling at the cubby, shooting blindly over the lip into the center of the box! Nothing, only Gersh’s body and a lot of blood all over the floor, a lot of blood; a body’s worth of blood. The leader rushed to the other side of the cubby, maybe the gun fighter had crawled out while he was hiding behind cover? But there was no blood trail, no body and no real escape route that wouldn’t have been visible. He spun in place, checking all the angles, even above. The gun fighter had vanished! Not sure what had happened, but satisfied that he was no longer in danger, the leader went and checked on the bodies of his fallen team. The three on the deck were dead. He collected the guns and power packs to take back with him. The rats and milipods will take care of the bodies. Then he headed to the cubby, Gersh was still there. He wondered how much of the blood in the cubby was from Gersh and how much was from the gun fighter. The leader jumped into the cubby and grabbed the discarded las gun, leaning it against the side of the cubby. Then he flipped over the body…

It wasn’t Gersh, what was left of Gersh after all the shots the body had taken was stuffed down between the pipes and tubes. Sergio had thrown on the robe and laid over the mess to wait for a chance to escape or kill. He said, “The Emperor Protects” and pulled the trigger. Tania spit one of her last two shots right between the cult leader’s eyes and he fell, limp, to the floor of the cubby. Sergio was quick to stand and throw off the robe. The stink of cultist blood was all over him. He grabbed the las guns, used the straps to hold them over his shoulder and made his way to the nearest Adeptus Arbites precinct to report. There were cultists on Muldavia, and the boss was going to have to do something about it.

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