Undefined Reality
CHAPTER 1 - The First Victim
++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++
Author: Ravena Kaiou
Email: KakyuuStarLt@aol.com
Genre: Horror/Sci-fi
Anime: Gundam Wing
Rating: R
Warnings: Violence, paranormality, OOC, language.
Disclaimer: I do not own Gundam Wing. The rights to it belong to Sunrise Animation, Bandai, and a few other people I don't know about. The Teletubbies belong to the sick individual that created them...ewww. I want no part of them.
++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++
Duo Maxwell opened one eye and listened to the sounds of the cars passing by on the street thirteen stories below his apartment. Every so often, there was the sound of brakes squealing, which caused the braided boy to grimace. If those brakes didn't stop the metal monsters they were attached to in time...well, you could bet that he'd be forced to run downstairs and get the full story.
But so was the life of a reporter.
Just thinking that single sentence made Duo snicker. Was he truly a reporter? No. He was nothing but a worker for a small underground newspaper, which barely sold enough copies to keep the presses running. Late at night when he had trouble falling asleep, he would often wonder what dumbassed weirdo would spend the dollar-per-issue cover price to read stories about two-headed goats and how the Teletubbies and masturbation went hand -in-hand.
With a yawn and a slight stretch, Duo swung his feet over the edge of his bed and threw on a pair of pants. No matter how hard he tried, he knew he wouldn't be able to get back to sleep. Not tonight.
As he shuffled into the small apartment kitchen, a wave of cold air hit him at full force.
"What the fuck?" he cursed. He paid eight hundred dollars a month for an apartment that was barely above hellhole status in the middle of Queens, and now his air conditioner was acting up?
The odd thing was, the discordant rumble of the air conditioning unit that Duo had learned to grow accustomed to over the years didn't penetrate the heavy night air. The traffic passing below had also come to a complete halt, it seemed.
The reporter's violet eyes shifted nervously and came to rest on the bare lightbulb that hung above the card table in the middle of the kitchen, which was swinging back and forth in a 180-degree arc. The weak light that shone through the grimy glass flickered a few times, threatening to leave Duo standing alone in silent darkness.
A stench that could rival the smell of rotten eggs pervaded his nostrils, causing him to gag. "God dammit!" he coughed, covering his nose with one hand and trying to wave the smell away with the other. "What died in here?!"
As if to answer his question, the lightbulb flickered once, twice...then went off all together. The only source of light was gone.
Duo closed his eyes and mumbled a prayer. "In the name of the Father--"
"Get out," a hollow voice that sounded as if it was coming from the end of a tunnel hissed.
"--and of the Son--" By now, he was beginning to forget the rest of the prayer. He clenched his chattering teeth and shut his eyes even tighter that they already were, trying to play off the fear that was coursing through his veins.
A sharp sensation, like thousands of tiny knives, attacked the left side of Duo's face. His hand automatically flew to the afflicted area and explored it, then withdrew quickly as it felt a familiar, sticky substance.
"Oh God," he moaned.
There was the sound of a crash, a cry of pain, and the sound of heavy footsteps running away. Quickly.
Once the nightmarish cacophony had subsided, the lightbulb snapped back on, and the familiar sounds of the street and his neighbor's sexual activities assaulted Duo's ears as they had before.
In an attempt to clear his head, Duo blinked and promptly screamed in pain. The left side of his face was killing him...and why couldn't he see to the left?
Panicked, he ran into the filthy bathroom and stared into the cracked glass. What stared back at him almost made him throw up.
His left eye was missing, the blood that welled up in the empty socket streaming down through the mess of exposed muscle and bone that used to be his face.
CHAPTER 1 - The First Victim
++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++
Author: Ravena Kaiou
Email: KakyuuStarLt@aol.com
Genre: Horror/Sci-fi
Anime: Gundam Wing
Rating: R
Warnings: Violence, paranormality, OOC, language.
Disclaimer: I do not own Gundam Wing. The rights to it belong to Sunrise Animation, Bandai, and a few other people I don't know about. The Teletubbies belong to the sick individual that created them...ewww. I want no part of them.
++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++
Duo Maxwell opened one eye and listened to the sounds of the cars passing by on the street thirteen stories below his apartment. Every so often, there was the sound of brakes squealing, which caused the braided boy to grimace. If those brakes didn't stop the metal monsters they were attached to in time...well, you could bet that he'd be forced to run downstairs and get the full story.
But so was the life of a reporter.
Just thinking that single sentence made Duo snicker. Was he truly a reporter? No. He was nothing but a worker for a small underground newspaper, which barely sold enough copies to keep the presses running. Late at night when he had trouble falling asleep, he would often wonder what dumbassed weirdo would spend the dollar-per-issue cover price to read stories about two-headed goats and how the Teletubbies and masturbation went hand -in-hand.
With a yawn and a slight stretch, Duo swung his feet over the edge of his bed and threw on a pair of pants. No matter how hard he tried, he knew he wouldn't be able to get back to sleep. Not tonight.
As he shuffled into the small apartment kitchen, a wave of cold air hit him at full force.
"What the fuck?" he cursed. He paid eight hundred dollars a month for an apartment that was barely above hellhole status in the middle of Queens, and now his air conditioner was acting up?
The odd thing was, the discordant rumble of the air conditioning unit that Duo had learned to grow accustomed to over the years didn't penetrate the heavy night air. The traffic passing below had also come to a complete halt, it seemed.
The reporter's violet eyes shifted nervously and came to rest on the bare lightbulb that hung above the card table in the middle of the kitchen, which was swinging back and forth in a 180-degree arc. The weak light that shone through the grimy glass flickered a few times, threatening to leave Duo standing alone in silent darkness.
A stench that could rival the smell of rotten eggs pervaded his nostrils, causing him to gag. "God dammit!" he coughed, covering his nose with one hand and trying to wave the smell away with the other. "What died in here?!"
As if to answer his question, the lightbulb flickered once, twice...then went off all together. The only source of light was gone.
Duo closed his eyes and mumbled a prayer. "In the name of the Father--"
"Get out," a hollow voice that sounded as if it was coming from the end of a tunnel hissed.
"--and of the Son--" By now, he was beginning to forget the rest of the prayer. He clenched his chattering teeth and shut his eyes even tighter that they already were, trying to play off the fear that was coursing through his veins.
A sharp sensation, like thousands of tiny knives, attacked the left side of Duo's face. His hand automatically flew to the afflicted area and explored it, then withdrew quickly as it felt a familiar, sticky substance.
"Oh God," he moaned.
There was the sound of a crash, a cry of pain, and the sound of heavy footsteps running away. Quickly.
Once the nightmarish cacophony had subsided, the lightbulb snapped back on, and the familiar sounds of the street and his neighbor's sexual activities assaulted Duo's ears as they had before.
In an attempt to clear his head, Duo blinked and promptly screamed in pain. The left side of his face was killing him...and why couldn't he see to the left?
Panicked, he ran into the filthy bathroom and stared into the cracked glass. What stared back at him almost made him throw up.
His left eye was missing, the blood that welled up in the empty socket streaming down through the mess of exposed muscle and bone that used to be his face.