Chapter 1: Names are for friends. So I don't need one.
"My name is not important. What is important is what I'm going to do ... I just fuckin' hate this world. And the human worms feasting on its carcass. My whole life is just cold, bitter hatred. And I always wanted to die violently. This is the time of vengeance and no life is worth saving. And I will put in the grave as many as I can. It's time for me to kill. And it's time for me to die."
The man who thought these words was a guy who had had enough. He was not tired. He was not depressed. There were no feelings of sorrow left within his body. No. Guy... was angry. He was angry at his parents for treating him as though he was a useless piece of meat who they didn't even want, someone who was only good for beating. He was angry at the people around him, those who lived lives of luxury and joy, while he had to suffer at the hands of the bullies as a child, while everyone else looked on and ignored his cries for help. He was angry at the entire universe for forcing him into this life... his life. A life where no matter how hard he tried, no matter what he did, the entire world seemed to be against him. And finally, he was angry with himself.
Guy always thought to himself as a child that he would not let his parents bring him down. That he would not let the bullies get to him. He thought to himself, that he was stronger than them. Maybe not physically, but he believed that he was smarter, and that he could keep his spirits high, and one day rise up above all these people that treated him with nothing but sheer hatred, and that one day, he would show them his true worth. But not like this. He never thought it would have to come to this. Yet, how else could it have ended for him? Even well into his adulthood, he never had a chance. His teachers never tried to help him, being too busy with taking bribes from other students parents. His own parents never taught him any skills (unless you count being able to take vast amounts of abuse as a skill). No decent paying job would hire him on account of his intimidating appearance, dark clothes (as though he ever had a choice of what he could wear, the trench coat he wore was one of the only things he had that passed for clothing, and even that was debatable), and his lack of skills. He never even had a friend in his life. Never a single person to share his feelings with, and open up to. Guy was all alone, with only his own mind to keep him company. And Guy had had enough.
But today, all that was going to change. Guy was finally going to get retribution for what the world had done to him. He was finally going to get revenge on those who had hurt him. And Guy was finally going to die. He would finally be released from the cruel existence that was his life, but he wouldn't go down without showing the world his true worth. He had prepared for this day for years, all while living in a broken down house that even rats would be ashamed to call home. He had been gathering up the small amounts of money that he had earned from whatever place would take him. He had purchased weapons. An assault rifle. Ammo. Grenades. And a knife. As he assembled his weapons, the thoughts of his past came back to haunt him, as they always did. The memories of his mothers stiletto heel piercing his cheek like that of a bullet. The memories of the school bullies laughing as they would throw him down steep hills and into mud, and then beat him until he could not move. Everything came rushing back. In that moment, it would be clear to anyone who could even take a small glimpse into his mind that... all the spirit he had as a child. All the determination to strive to be better. All the hope for a better life... it was all gone. At that moment, he had nothing in his heart... nothing... but hatred. Hatred for the humans that the world calls his family. Hatred for the people the world calls his teachers. Hatred for every single human being that had ever existed on the planet Earth.
His name was not important. He had long since abandoned any care for what others called him. The only thing that was left at that moment, was hatred. And Hatred Guy was ready. He was ready to step out onto the streets that had raised him to be the way he was. And he was ready to leave his own mark on these streets, as they did on him.
"My genocide crusade begins here."
Hatred Guy stepped outside his house. His fingers were resting on the trigger of his weapon. He could see all the miserable human scum walking around outside. All of them, feeling so safe and secure. So content with their ignorance. But that was all about to change. Hatred Guy raised his weapon, and aimed. As he pulled the trigger, for the first time in his life, Hatred Guy felt powerful...
...Nothing would escape his sights...
...Nothing would escape his fury...
...Nothing...
...would escape...
...his hatred.
(MEANWHILE, IN ANOTHER PART OF THE WORLD, IN A SMALL TOWN KNOWN AS PARADISE...)
"Christ, it's as hot as the Devils rectum in here. When did we move to hell?"
Postal Dude was a simple dude. He lived a simple life in a trailer with his simple wife and dog, he did simple chores and worked at a simple job, making ends meet, he wore a simple trench coat, and simple glasses, oh, and he lived in a fucking turbo insane-o fuckville where everyone and everything tried to kill him, and where death and violence is so common that people just shrug off seeing police officers shoot people right in front of them, and where if a couple of people die here and there, no question are raised by police and everyone just moves on in life. This was a little town known as Paradise, and Postal Dude lived there because of videogames.
"You were the one who insisted on relocating for that stupid video game job!"
His wife (whom he lovingly refers to as "the Bitch") was one of the few people who could stand being around the nihilistic and sociopathic Dude. Not being the epitome of kindness herself, the Bitch and Dude found themselves to be drawn to one another, and finally became married, and then proceeded to live in a fucking trailer.
"Yeah well crack doesn't buy itself you know..."
Dude got out of bed, and tried to turn on the air conditioning.
"Why isn't the AC on?"
Dude realised why.
"...Broken."
Dude weighted his options at that moment. Dude was a simple man, and he liked to solve problems with simple solutions. Dude did what Dude does in such a situation.
He shot the air conditioner.
Dude didn't think that would work, but it was more of a way for him to release some tension more than any sort of attempt to fix the problem. Dude then proceeded to trip over a bunch of shit.
"Ah shit."
His wife heard this shit going on.
"When you're done screwing around, I've made a list of errands for you on the fridge!" she yelled to him.
"Jesus woman..."
Dude walked to the fridge.
"Where's the milk?" he asked the Bitch.
"It's on the damn list!" she exclaimed back to him.
"I'll put you on a damn list..." muttered Dude, clearly showing off his love for her.
Despite his occasional claims, the Dude found some pleasure in filling out the tasks that his wife asked of him. Postal Dude felt some sense of purpose as he crossed things off the list, and yet, the tasks were often simple, which he liked. Dude didn't want to feel stressed. He wasn't sure why, but he knew that to him, stress was one of his worse enemies, and he would do whatever he could to avoid it. Dude learned to take things in stride, and accept that whatever happens will happen, whether he's happy or sad. That didn't mean things didn't annoy him though, like his beloved wife occasionally did.
Finally dressed and ready for the day ahead of him, Dude stepped outside into Paradise. The fresh air, the birds chirping, the beautiful trees and bushes all around him, embracing him, welcoming him to enjoy the pleasures of nature...
...oh, and his dog, Champ, pissing right in front of his damn shoe.
"WHAT THE-" Dude exclaimed, as he punted his dog right in the fucking stomach, leaving the beast to whimper and run away out of their yard.
"Ach, stupid dog..."
"Don't let the dog out!" said the Bitch.
"Crap" said Dude. Not even 2 steps outside and already everything was awful. Such is life in Paradise.
"AND DON'T FORGET MY ROCKEY ROAD!" the Bitch yelled to her beloved husband.
"Yeah yeah, whatever..."
Dude wasn't having a good day. He went over to his car and got in.
"Let me guess" Dude said as he turned the key, only for the car to stutter, and not start up.
"I can tell this is going to be an interesting day..."
As Dude just casually accepted the shit life threw at him and looked over what daily errands he had before him, he could have never predicted what was about to happen, and how it would change his life forever.
(MEANWHILE, BACK AT THE LOCATION OF HATRED GUY)
Death. There was only death as far as the eye could see. Bodies to the left. Bodies to the right. Men, women, police officers, army units, all lying in an eternal slumber. There were bullet wounds, knife wounds, shrapnel lodged in necks, charred corpses, decapitated heads, even crushed body parts. Who would have thought that one guy could do all this? And yet, Hatred Guy wasn't done. No, he wasn't done until he was dead like all the pathetic scum that came before him, and he had no intention of that happening any time soon. Guy had waiting his whole life for this. He had taken every opportunity to make his genocide last as long as possible, and claim as many lives as he could. Guy took all the body armour and weapons from police stations that he could carry, and then when the army was called in, he took from them as well. He was fast. He was accurate. He took all the punishment his opponents dished out and returned it back to them 100 fold. Guy's hatred was so intense, even the wounds he did receive hardly even made him flinch. Soon, the sound of bullets firing became background noise, and all that mattered was the thud as gravity the bodies hit the floor. None expected one man to be capable of all this, and yet, he proved them wrong. He proved all of them wrong.
"GODDAMNIT WHY ARE ALL MY MEN DYING!"
Despite sitting safely inside of his base, the military General, Gorrister, was not happy. One man. He was only one man. And yet, Guy had managed to take out so many of his valuable troops. How? Were they underestimating him? They were trained not to underestimate threats! How was this possible? Would they be forced to send tanks and more choppers to take out this one psychopath? How could one man be so deadly? He had to think. But as soon as he fell silent, one of his trusted scientists offered a suggestion.
"Zir, mightn't ve try zee teleporter ray?"
"The ray?" the General replied, "Not only did you tell me that shit was a fucking prototype, but it's a FUCKING TELELPORTER! Why in the name of GOD would you want to use the ray!?"
"Zir, zee ray IZ a prototype. Zee long range beam works. Our satellite allows us to use zee ray on any area ve vish vithin a 2000 mile rahdiooz. But, zee teleportation doez not work properly. Zee chances are zat zis man vill joost die from hiz molecules being pulled ahpart und zen scattered! All ve haf to do is fire it on hiz position, und zen all our problems are solved, ja?"
"WELL WHY DIDN'T YOU MENTION THIS BEFORE?! USE THE GODDAMN RAY YOU NO GOOD EXCUSE FOR A GERMAN SCIENTIST!"
"Ja, mien General."
The scientist climbed up to the ray control panel, and zeroed in on the position of Hatred Guy.
"Auf wiedersehen, you verdammt homofuerst."
The scientist pressed the button.
Hatred Guy saw the light. He didn't think much of it. Maybe he was shot in the head, and now angels had come down to judge him, before he got dragged down into hell. It didn't matter to him. All that mattered was that he still had a weapon in his hands, and he still heard screams. His mission was not done yet. And yet... he felt something. His whole body was changing. As if it was being moved against his will. His vision blurred. He lost control of his movement. He could barely stand. And then... white. Only white. Hatred Guy couldn't see anything. Where did his prey go? Was this heaven? Did he actually earn a place in eternal paradise? Hatred Guy wasn't sure yet, but he slowly felt himself getting control back.
Back at the military base, the General has a smile on his face. The deed was done. The sociopath was gone. No more death. No more lost men. A victory had been achieved. The scientist stood tall and proud of the machine which he helped in building. Knowing that for his act, perhaps a pay rise was in order. Suddenly, another scientist walked into the room.
"Sorry I am late General. I slept in a little too late. NIMDOK! My friend! I have good news!" the woman said.
"Yes, Ellen, vat iz it? Ve are celebrating a victory ourselves!" Nimdok said to her.
"Well, remember how I stayed up all night working on the teleporter?" Ellen said with a smile.
"Yes, I do... und vat about it?" Nimdok said curiously.
"Well, I finally fixed the issue with molecules not reassembling correctly! We are still a far way away from actually teleporting stuff to where we want it, bu-"
"YOU DID WHAT!?" screamed the General. "DO YOU HAVE ANY IDEA WHAT YOU MIGHT HAVE JUST DONE!? WE JUST TELEPORTED A CRAZED KILLER TO GOD KNOWS WHERE, AND YOU'RE STANDING HERE SMILING!?"
"General, please" said Nimdok. "Like she vaz saying. Ve cannot control vhere ze teleporter sendz ze target. Most likely, he iz in ze vacuum of space, und already dead. Zere is naffing to vurry about."
Hatred Guy felt that he could stand again, his body was returning back to him. He felt dizzy, but he pushed through it. He couldn't let his guard down. A single shot could end everything he had worked to achieve. He wouldn't let that happen. As he opened his eyes and the smoke around him cleared, before him, he saw some stairs, some trees, and a house. Everything seemed so much more colourful here, but he couldn't understand why. He noticed he was missing all his weapons, and the armour he had was gone. Was this Heaven? Was this eternal paradise?
He didn't have much time to wonder, since as soon as he regained his sense of self, he heard someone behind him.
"You gotta be fuckin' kidding. I didn't expect THAT. Man, I gotta stop smoking this crap."
Hatred Guy turned around to look eye to eye with whoever make that sound. What sort of drugged up maniac would just stand there instead of running for his life? As he took a look at the man, and gazed upon his orange goatee and brown trench coat, complete with an alien head shirt, he heard one more thing come from the man's mouth.
"Hi there! Welcome to Paradise!"