Weapon of War
Written By:
Preston Kingsley
Chapter One
TIME LOG: THREE YEARS LATER
"My fellow followers, There once was a time, not too long ago where our organization was seen as a joke. A deplorable idea that was bounded by all, thought to fail. We were weak and looked down upon. However, we stuck through the troubled times and now look at us. This 'Great War' has given us all the necessity that our organization has so greatly needed.
"Now people fear us. They run away from any of us because of our dynamism. However, we must not think too highly of ourselves. We have not reached even close to the top of this great adventure. There is still a giant area outside our window that we could control. Space and time, imagine if we could bend the cosmos and do as we please. It is achievable with all the resources we own. We could easily send that fatuous rebellious group Koron straight to the depths of hell.
"So my patient followers, of this new age, do you believe in what I have said? This new race, this new way of life, can only happen if we all work together as one big family. To Diadem!" he shaped his hand onto the bureau in front of him.
"To Diadem!" repeated the others around the table as they stood up and applauded.
Everyone around the table then sat down, except the speaker who continued his moving speech. There were twenty-four at the meeting table, including the speaker. The room in which they were in was small and dark. The only light in the entire vicinity was the table. It illuminated a green glow, just enough for each person to see the others face.
Even though each man around the table was in different stature, each was bald. Above their eyes, from one side to the other was a bar code number. Each man had six numbers. Except for the speaker, he had five. The room was completely sealed off and began to get very humid. One of the larger gentlemen grabbed his handkerchief from his white coat and patted his forehead. He then grabbed a glass of water and quickly drank it down. His glasses began to fog and he took them off.
Just as he did he noticed a glare right in the vent. However, he didn't say anything; all he did was stare. After a few seconds he came to the conclusion that it was nothing and his mind was just playing with him, so he continued to listen.
"What the fuck is all this bull shit?" there was someone in the vent.
It was a young man, who looked to be around the ages of eighteen to twenty-four. He was cramped up in the vent and peering down the open grid with a small, top of the line video camera. Dust tickled his nose, and his elbows here numb, but he kept the camera steady on the speaker's stern mean face. The wrinkles were exaggerated by the green glow. Causing him to appear like some sort of a horrible mummy.
Slowly a rat came up from behind him and went up over his body. It over his head and back down to the vent, but turned around. For a bit it sniffed his finger and then bit it hard. The man held in the urge to curse and hit the rat, but then the rat rubbed its fur against his nose. He was over come by the urge to sneeze.
Sadly, at the same moment everyone in the meeting below was taking a moment to think when he left off a long loud sneeze.
The speaker opened his eyes; "Did you hear that?"
The rest of the men opened their eyes and stared at him. Each nodded to the other.
"It came from up in the vents," one said aloud.
The man grew tense in the vent and held his breath.
The speaker's right hand man leaned over near his shoulder and whispered, "Should we call the guards?"
He whispered back, "Not yet. I want to fish him out. Go turn on the heaters, full blast."
The right hand man got up from his seat. Everyone stared at him attentively. Slowly he began to play around with knobs and then he sat back down. Each man sat patiently staring up at him.
"Shit, I think I'm in trouble," he looked around, but the metal began to get really hot.
He tried to move around quickly but the heat was just much for him. He began to kick the metal grid in front of him. Till it fell off and smashed into the ground, bouncing back up a little.
"Call the guards," the speaker whispered and the right hand man got up out of the room.
The man in the vent dived out into the open. He made an entire front flip and opened his trench coat. In hopes to reduce speed. Leaving one leg out to try to gain balance the second of impact to the floor. For a split second it was almost like a fallen dark angel was in the room.
He hit the ground rather nicely and stood back up. Fifty guards ran into the room and formed a tight circle around him. Each had a magnum pointed at the man. He looked around and smiled as if he wanted violence to start.
The speaker stepped into the circle and examined him from head to toe. The man had dark brown hair that was wild, yet not convoluted. A pair of what looked like ordinary sand goggles, right on his forehead kept his semi-long hair from getting into his eyes.
The speaker stared into his dark blue eyes for a bit.
The speaker smiled, "What were you doing up there?"
"Nothing, just hanging around. I like dirty spaces," the man smiled back.
"Come now. We are both men who could solve this in a non-violent way."
The man laughed, "You don't get it. I like violence."
"I see, so you are a primitive ape. Pity."
"You know what? Fuck you, you fucking old piece of shit!" the man tightened his fists and both of them lost their carefree smiles.
"Yes, I see. Well, my name is Herti. Even though, from the look of your head that you are not a part of this organization. You must have heard of me."
"Nope. Can't say I have," the man was picking at his ear and flicked some gunk on the ground.
"Well, you should do good to remember it. There, I told you my name. Surely you can tell me yours."
"Well. I don't normally do this with customers, leads to bad endings, but what the fuck. It's cause you amuse me old man. My name is Scott. Do care to remember it."
"I see so you decided not to be renamed after the war. That is a brave, but foolish move."
"Yeah, whatever old fuck. Can I go now?" Scott looked at the guards.
"Tell me what you were doing up there. This instance," Herti's voice was becoming strict, but Scott could care less.
"You want to know? Fine, how the fuck could it hurt right? I was video taping your conversation with these fat fucks here for some dough. And by how fucking boring the stupid shit speech was, I probably hit jackpot on the fucking market," Scott smiled.
"My you have a filthy mouth."
"Yeah, what can I say? It's just the way I am."
"Well Scott, I got a deal for you. Give me the tape and we will let you go, with your life."
"And if not?"
"The guards here will shoot you till your just tiny fragments of meat and bone," each guard unlocked the safety.
"You know. I think I'll take option C. Getting the fuck out of here with my tape," Scott ran towards one of the guards.
He jumped up in the air and just as he hit his peek of height, Scott clapped his heels together. There was an explosion from the bottom of his shoes and he cleared the whole circle. He landed on a guard's face that was looking up, and quickly bounced off. The guards turned around and shot at him as he ran through the door.
"Find him, and kill him. I want to see him burn!" Herti ordered.
The guards chased after Scott, but he was a great deal down the hallway. The inside of the hall was very dull. Only one color for the ceiling, the walls, and the floor. White. Scott stopped at a chute. He wasn't sure what it was used for, but he assumed it would probably be a faster way out.
Scott kept gaining speed as he went from floor to floor. It seemed as though the chute would never end. After about a minute he flew out of the chute on the ground and smashed his face into the floor.
"Fucking piece of shit!" he yelled so loudly that any body in an earshot could hear.
Scott ran down the hall. It looked exactly the same as the hall many stories above him. He ran passed room after room, till one caught his eye. "Flying Crafts 306." He quickly kicked the door down and ran inside. There was only one craft in the whole area. It was ready to be flown.
"This will have to do," Scott stepped in it.
The craft was an YT-99. Not as big as the RX-123 or the MJ-50 its wings only had a span of thirty feet. Only old professional craft builders could have spotted the kind of machine, because only one hundred nine still existed. They were too obsolete, but fast.
He flew it straight out through the mysteriously opened hatch and was on his way home. For a second Scott felt relaxed, and closed his eyes as the plain went on auto.
There was a red light that blinked on the control panel, and altered him with a loud screech. Following the sound the craft was hit with firepower and began to shake violently. Scott tried to maintain control, but he knew that even if he did he couldn't take another hit like that.
He tried to use the weapons on the ship, but they were off-line and he could not reactivate them in the time he had. Scott figured that this was their plan all along and that they knew he would fall for it. He was amazed just how much they knew him to set it up this perfect.
Scott knew there was no hope and put on his parachute. He reached down to his boot and grabbed a small disk, stuck to the side of it. Slowly he rubbed his finger around it till it just displayed thirty seconds.
He opened the window hatch above him and the wind pushed against his body. Quickly Scott typed in some commands on autopilot and slapped the disk on. It slowly began to countdown. Scott got up and looked over the side. The town below him was destroyed. A messed up old slum town that was located next to the merth factories.
The pollution was unimaginable, but it was home. Scott jumped off and after a while of free fall, let his parachute out and looked back. The plain reduced speed and met with the other crafts just as the disk on the dashboard exploded. Taking all three objects up in one powerful explosion that sent Scott faster to the top of a building.
He quickly took off his parachute and walked down the stairs in a cool manner.
"Looks like there is only one hundred and six left now," Scott spoke to himself aloud.
Scott quickly walked down three flights of stairs till he reached the second floor from the bottom. Slowly walking past the rooms, he examined the numbers, till he stopped at room 208.
He pounded on the door. There was no answer. He pounded on the door again. Sill there was no answer.
He pounded louder again, "Charlie, open the fucking door."
There was no answer.
"Charlie open the fucking door right now fagget," he began to kick the door and pound.
After waiting for an answer, and still receiving none. Scott's face became red.
"Fine you cunt, Ill open it myself," he pulled out his gun and pistol-whipped the doorknob till it came loose and fell off.
The door opened with a slow creak and Scott could see that there had been some kind of trouble. Books were torn up and thrown every where. The two beds were stabbed at and ripped to shreds. The television was shot at and turned on its side. The desk, which held valuable information about them, was scratched up and papers were everywhere.
"Fucking shit," Scott whispered to himself, "Charlie? Where are you Charlie? Fucking A'. What happened?"
Scott searched around and eventually heard a soft moan come from under a couple of books behind the desk. He removed the books and sure enough it was his old friend Charlie.
Charlie's rich long blonde hair was soaked in blood. His green eyes closed in pain. There was a bullet wound in his left leg and right shoulder. He had repeated bruises on his face and chest. Also on his chest was a long cut, which slowly let out blood.
"Shit! Charlie!" Scott touched him.
He was still alive, but very cold and wouldn't make it to the next hour. Scott was about to pick him up when he heard a sound come from behind him. A shadow emerged from the closet. It was a man with a gun in his right hand. Scott could smell the gunpowder and knew that instant that this was the guy responsible for Charlie's wounds.
"Pathetic fool didn't even put up a fight. I wish all jobs were this easy," the man had a deep throated voice.
His blonde hair let off a light of its own and his brown eyes squinted at Scott, as though he was looking in the sun. For a second they both stared at one another, but Scott knew he didn't have time for games.
"You're going to pay for what you did here," Scott had no expression in his body.
"Really? I would like to see you do that. Or are you just another baby?" the man shot at Jack.
The bullet missed, and Scott just continued to stare at him.
"I see, so you aren't a coward. Good, this will be fun," he put his gun up again. Jack could tell this one wouldn't miss.
The bullet shot off, and Scott dodged it with ease. The man shot off another and another, but Scott dodged them all till he was out of bullets. He looked at Scott in fear.
"What the fuck are you?" he tried to reload his gun quickly.
"The last person you will ever see," Scott unleashed his gun.
Unlike the magnum that he had used to beat down the door, this gun was entirely different. It was customized to fit Scott perfectly and would allow for maximum aim. Scott shot off all six shots.
The man looked at him and laughed, "I cannot believe you just missed all six shots at a person who has no bullets."
"Did I?" Scott smiled at him.
"What the fuck? I don't feel so good. What the fuck did you d-" the man was stopped short as his eyes and mouth began to bleed.
Blood flowed from his fingertips and toenails. His ears and nose bled as well. Scott had shot him in all the vital spots on the human body. His shots were so perfect and accurate that it actually allowed the man to live for a few more seconds, but his seconds were over and he flew to the ground.
Scott knew what he had done. The man's insides had all exploded from the pressure.
He lifted up Charlie, "Come on man, let's get the fuck out of here."
Scott ran down the two flights of stairs past the check in.
"You might want to clean up room 208. Like, right now," he said as he ran past the front desk.
About four blocks from the motel Scott darted into an alley and through a back door. The door had a message that read "Go around, not an entrance to the Black Bird." However, Scott could care less.
He barged into a small room with two couches. The walls were blue, but very old and most of the paint turned black and crusted off. A woman stood in front of Scott. She didn't notice him right away and she was topless.
She looked over and screamed when she saw him.
"Lu, shut up, it's just me and Charlie," Scott put Charlie on one of the couches.
"You know there is a 'front door'," Lu said sarcastically.
"I know that dumb ass. We're on the run, and I don't want to drag an almost dead person through the bar.
She looked at Charlie, "Holy shit, what happened to him?"
"I don't know. There must have been a struggle but I wasn't there. Can you just help him please?"
"Course," she walked over to him.
"You're gonna help him with no shirt on. I wish I got shot," Scott smiled.
Lu looked down and remembered that she had no shirt on and was bare waist up. Her breasts were hard from the cold of the night. Scott noticed this and smiled even larger.
She walked over him and slapped him across the face.
"What the fuck was that for you bitch?" Scott rubbed his cheek.
"For being a horny little fagget," she put a shirt on. However, it didn't help, you could see right through.
Scott walked out of the room in the back, "Whatta bitch. That really hurt."
She ignored him and tried to get to work on Charlie.