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Chapter 4
Justifying The Means
Deep underground, in a large room the size of a Greek theater:
"So," He said in a chillingly calm voice. "So, you failed." The biker, in life known as Jacob 'Bowie' Smith, kneeling on the ground stammered "B-but I won't fail you again! I can do this! P-PLEASE!!" Darus scowled. "Do you know what I want?" The biker didn't answer right away, so Darus continued. "I WANT PEACE! I watched these pitiful creatures from the day of their creation. They don't understand that to live in harmony, they must stop fighting." Darus was pacing now, deep in thought. He was a man with black, slicked back hair and a thin mustache. He wore a plain black suit with a red hankerchief in the breast pocket, and round glasses covering his eyes with dark lenses. "I can lead them to saftey, but how do I stop their battles?"
Jacob was frozen in fear of rousing his master from thought and being destroyed. He understood that men like him were taken, not quite to Hell, but to the presence of this man Darus. He stole a quick glance around. It was a crowd of people sitting in orderly rows, each from a different era. One man wore a smart grey military uniform covered with medals and a sinister red band and swastika wrapped around his forearm. Another man nearby wore a suit that had not been in style since around 1935. He wore a brimmed hat with a bandana around the lower half of his face, and his clothing smelled of whiskey and gun powder. Jacob reflected on where he came from. His nickname came from the Bowie knife he used to rob people in his hometown of Clarksville, Utah. An older man had resisted his attempt and Jacob was forced to kill him. He knew that every man sitting in this room was guilty of crimes beyond redemption, but waiting for orders from the master they were forced to serve.
"Stop their will, and I stop their desire to fight." Darus stopped pacing and smiled. "In terms of peace, freedom may have to be surrendered, and dreams must be censored. I want to make this world the utopia it was meant to be." His smile melted away. "But that girl, Kaylin, could ruin everything!" His expression was of rage. "I will not allow this child, born with the dormant power of those foolish Gifted, to interfere! I am the one who shall lead this world to peace!"
Darus seemed to remember Jacob was kneeling before him. "Please master," he sobbed. "Please, spare me and I shall never fail you again!" Darus looked thoughtful. "I gather your kind here to use the tools of evil and corruption to create a world of good and prosperity. It seems, however, failure can't be tolerated." Jacob's eyes grew wide, and he screeched "NO! MASTER!" But Darus kneeled infront of Jacob until their eyes were level. Then, slowly, he removed his glasses. Jacob screamed in a way that was nothing short of an abomination to nature. Darus's eyes were, in fact, flame. The whites were flickering gold and the pupils were burning blue with a white hot point at the center. His eyes didn't burn past his face, remaining perfectly fitted inside his eye sockets. The images Jacob saw in those eyes should never be seen by any man, good or evil, dead or alive. Darus reduced the man to ashes, which were promptly abosrbed in spirals into his coal black suit. "Now then, you two are next. Remember the price for failure." The men he sent out next, one in the grey military suit of the Second World War, and one in the ruined suit of a 1930's gangster, quickly turned to smoke and floated upwards and through the ceiling. "You better not fail me." Darus said to himself. "I may be this world's last chance for redemption. I promised my brothers that, and I will stop them at all costs."
Justifying The Means
Deep underground, in a large room the size of a Greek theater:
"So," He said in a chillingly calm voice. "So, you failed." The biker, in life known as Jacob 'Bowie' Smith, kneeling on the ground stammered "B-but I won't fail you again! I can do this! P-PLEASE!!" Darus scowled. "Do you know what I want?" The biker didn't answer right away, so Darus continued. "I WANT PEACE! I watched these pitiful creatures from the day of their creation. They don't understand that to live in harmony, they must stop fighting." Darus was pacing now, deep in thought. He was a man with black, slicked back hair and a thin mustache. He wore a plain black suit with a red hankerchief in the breast pocket, and round glasses covering his eyes with dark lenses. "I can lead them to saftey, but how do I stop their battles?"
Jacob was frozen in fear of rousing his master from thought and being destroyed. He understood that men like him were taken, not quite to Hell, but to the presence of this man Darus. He stole a quick glance around. It was a crowd of people sitting in orderly rows, each from a different era. One man wore a smart grey military uniform covered with medals and a sinister red band and swastika wrapped around his forearm. Another man nearby wore a suit that had not been in style since around 1935. He wore a brimmed hat with a bandana around the lower half of his face, and his clothing smelled of whiskey and gun powder. Jacob reflected on where he came from. His nickname came from the Bowie knife he used to rob people in his hometown of Clarksville, Utah. An older man had resisted his attempt and Jacob was forced to kill him. He knew that every man sitting in this room was guilty of crimes beyond redemption, but waiting for orders from the master they were forced to serve.
"Stop their will, and I stop their desire to fight." Darus stopped pacing and smiled. "In terms of peace, freedom may have to be surrendered, and dreams must be censored. I want to make this world the utopia it was meant to be." His smile melted away. "But that girl, Kaylin, could ruin everything!" His expression was of rage. "I will not allow this child, born with the dormant power of those foolish Gifted, to interfere! I am the one who shall lead this world to peace!"
Darus seemed to remember Jacob was kneeling before him. "Please master," he sobbed. "Please, spare me and I shall never fail you again!" Darus looked thoughtful. "I gather your kind here to use the tools of evil and corruption to create a world of good and prosperity. It seems, however, failure can't be tolerated." Jacob's eyes grew wide, and he screeched "NO! MASTER!" But Darus kneeled infront of Jacob until their eyes were level. Then, slowly, he removed his glasses. Jacob screamed in a way that was nothing short of an abomination to nature. Darus's eyes were, in fact, flame. The whites were flickering gold and the pupils were burning blue with a white hot point at the center. His eyes didn't burn past his face, remaining perfectly fitted inside his eye sockets. The images Jacob saw in those eyes should never be seen by any man, good or evil, dead or alive. Darus reduced the man to ashes, which were promptly abosrbed in spirals into his coal black suit. "Now then, you two are next. Remember the price for failure." The men he sent out next, one in the grey military suit of the Second World War, and one in the ruined suit of a 1930's gangster, quickly turned to smoke and floated upwards and through the ceiling. "You better not fail me." Darus said to himself. "I may be this world's last chance for redemption. I promised my brothers that, and I will stop them at all costs."
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The Traveler in the Grasslands Part 1
High in the clear blue sky, the mid-afternoon sun shone down upon the tall, golden grass of the vast, open prairies. The chirping and droning of insects could be heard from within the grass as the breeze swayed its maize-high blades to and fro. The grassy plain stretched as far as the eye could see. The only evidence of civilization present was a dirt road, about three meters wide, which cut straight through the prairies.
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Silence filled the air as she fell on her knees. She covered her mouth with one hand, closing her eyes. No tears were falling down her rosy cheeks; no sobs were coming out of her mouth. She wanted to cry, to let it all out, to scream, but she couldn’t. It wasn’t sadness or grief that she felt, it was anger and a burning desire for revenge. She blamed Howe, she blamed his soldiers, she even blamed Duncan for everything that had happened.
After a few moments that seemed like an eternity Kayli slowly stood up, brushing a few wild strands of red hair from her face. When she turned around, she looked Duncan in the eye, her teal eyes fi
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Molly Jones: Prologue
“It’s calling me,” Molly Jones cried, thrashing wildly in her bed. “They’re coming…we have to go…Zev.”
Zevran Arainai hunched over the sweat stained pillow and sheet and gently comforted his wife. He held her closely while rocking her and whispering soft, meaningless assurances in her ear. In his heart he knew what this was. For forty-two years they had avoided it, so much so that he had truly begun to believe that taint was no longer there and that somehow, she was immune to the effects of the Calling.
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My Chapter 4 submission for the Odyssey into 2012 story contest.
By the way:
IMMA FIRIN' MAH LAZER!!!
ʘ ʘ
/¯/_____________________
| BLAAAAAAAAARGH!!!!
\_\¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯
By the way:
IMMA FIRIN' MAH LAZER!!!
ʘ ʘ
/¯/_____________________
| BLAAAAAAAAARGH!!!!
\_\¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯
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