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He stopped walking and leaned up against the front wall of a building that had decided to take up residence in its current location for a while. His drunken hands fumbled for an already used napkin in his pocket. After a moment he managed to pull it out and quickly put it to his nose. The world was a bit shaky to him and thoughts and images were bumping into each other in his head. The napkin was quickly getting soaked with blood. His mind had temporarily attached itself to the bartender he had just attacked with an iron rod. He could feel the pain the poor man might have felt in his head if he was still conscious. The napkin was starting to drip crimson drops on the dry sidewalk. The man behind the bar had insulted him. He wouldn't give him another glass of the alcohol he so wanted (needed). The man had called him a pathetic sack of shit. Not out loud, but the dark figure knew what the bartender was thinking. He knew what everyone was thinking, and he hated it. The other man in the bar had tried to stop him from killing the bartender (that's where the bloody nose came from), but the dark figure stopped the other man. His mind started to release its grip on the bartender and started looking for new prey. It would not find anything too quickly because of the alcohol. He tried getting up and fell to one knee. His head was spinning and wouldn't stop. Just like he couldn't stop the puke as it shot through his throat and came leaking out of his clenched jaw. Why wouldn't the pain go away. Why couldn't his mind clear up for just a little while. He looked down to see the sidewalk rapidly approaching to greet his face. As he lay on the dirty city street, feelings of hate and despair coursed through his weakened body. The feelings had been around the land and the city for so long that they had become part of the city. They where all too familiar. Just as he thought he might pass out, he felt a drop of rain hit his head. "Shit," he thought. "I need to find some shelter, or I might get sick. Can't have that." He pushed himself off the ground and clutched at the brick of the building by him. Slowly, he began to walk again. He couldn't remember where he lived (if anywhere), he was far too drunk. As the rain began to soak through his many layers of clothing he knew that he had to find a place to rest and get dry soon. Though numbed, his mind still found people with all sorts of interesting things going through their tiny heads. A woman already beginning to regret her marriage to a high school boyfriend after only three months of wedlock. The memories of an aging man of his father raping him as a child as he now raped his own son. A girl no older than twelve already thinking about plunging a knife into her veins as another night went on with her mother being beaten by her new junky boyfriend. The city was full of such thoughts and some people had to learn about all of them. He found a small, out-of-the-way building with just a few people living in it where he would be able to rest for the night. He fell through the front door and began half walking, half crawling up the stairs that he found directly behind the main entrance. Each step was slow and painful. He still clutched the now dark red napkin to his nose as he top and found two doors on each side of him. One said "2A" and the other said "2B." His mind quickly began to explore the insides of both living areas. "2A" had only a young girl who had just recently moved out of her parents house (more like kicked out), and upon finding city life to be rather hard, had taken the aid of a number of mind altering substances to pass out on the old sofa with the unexplained dark stain. "2B" had a man in his late forties who was of his kind at a lesser level, a Feeler as they were called by his kin. This one couldn't read other people's minds as he did but felt what others felt. The man wasn't all to sane (whatever that meant) and had a rather large collection of guns for his own personal protection. The feeler was still awake watching television with remote control in one hand and a loaded magnum in the other. The dark figure thought it safer to use "2A" as his temporary sleeping quarters. He reached into one of the deep pockets in his coat and pulled out the old metal rod he had used to crush the bartenders skull. It took all his willpower to clear his mind just long enough to break open the lock on the door. He quickly pushed it open and tried to put the lock and handle back together just enough to make it look like it wasn't broken. He went in and closed the door behind him. The room was dark and smelled of cigarettes, cheap liquor, and sweat. It was also incredibly hot for such a cold city. His drunken hands felt along the wall until they found a switch and flipped it on. He took a better look at the place under the light of the single sixty watt bulb. The back of the only piece of furniture faced him and the door. It was the old sofa where he knew the girl would be sleeping. He could see an old fourteen inch TV. with an antenna sticking out of the top at the other end of the room facing the front of the couch. A single open door to his left led to a dirty, old bathroom crawling with roaches. Another opening led to a small kitchen. Their were no other rooms in the little apartment. He moved around the couch to get a look at his unconscious host. She was obviously young and might have actually been pretty if it wasn't for the lack of care she had put into maintaining her appearance. She wore nothing more then a white shirt with a faded Cure logo on it, and some cheap panties. Drool ran down the side of her face and dropped down on the stain on the couch. Her hair was uncombed and one end had a bit of dried puke on it. A needle still hung from her arm which he pulled out and threw into a pile of old vodka bottles. Knowing that she wouldn't be waking any time soon, he began to push the couch across the room until it was propped against the front door. He walked to the bathroom and began to wash his face. He puked again, this time in the toilet. He realized that the alcohol had made him somewhat numb and was glad for it. He did wish it would make his mind a bit more numb however. The bloody napkin fell to the floor and his hands reached for a roll of toilet paper sitting by the dirty sink. He took a wad of it and placing it against his nose, slowly began to work his way to the kitchen. The bleeding had almost stopped. He opened the refrigerator door and pulled out a forty ounce bottle of beer. It took a couple of tries, but he finally managed to take off all but one layer of clothes, and he stumbled into the main room where he sat in front of the old T.V. to watch the crap they had on at this hour. As he drank the cold beer, he thought of how much he liked television. It was the only time he could look at another human being and not know what they were thinking. Already his mind was finding people in the building who were conscious enough to think a little bit. The man in "2B" was jerking off to a porno on the television with the gun still held tight in one hand. An obese woman downstairs was torn between whether she should try to get to the bathroom to do her business, or just do it on the mattress she was laying on. The man in "2B" began to wonder where he would find a towel to wipe the semen of his hand and stomach as the women let her bowels free on her mattress just as she had many times before. All this he saw in his head right next to the "I Love Lucy" rerun that was on the T.V. He took another sip of the beer hoping for unconsciousness. 
"I'm not going to hurt you as long as you keep quiet and let me rest here until the night is over," he whispered in what he hoped was a soothing voice. She didn't believe him. Her mind was terror stricken and had gone to a primal level knowing only the need for survival. He slowly pulled his hand away and hoped she wouldn't scream. She sat very still on the sofa looking at him with cold eyes. At a time like this, not much thought would go through her head, but lots of strong emotions. Right now the strongest emotion was hate. Hate all directed towards him and it pounded his brain and caused him much pain. He was glad for the alcohol flowing through his body. He stepped back and tried to calm the girl. "I know you don't believe me, but I really have no intentions of hurting you," he couldn't believe he could speak so clearly. Maybe it just sounded that way to him. "It's raining real hard out there and I just needed somewhere to stay for the night." It wasn't working. She hardly heard a word he was saying. He could already see what her mind was beginning to think. All the different ways she hoped to beat him, kill him. "Look, if I wanted to hurt you I would have done it by now. You've been unconscious for a long time," he was beginning to despair. He needed to rest and he couldn't do it if the only thing going through the girls head was how much she wanted to kill him. He began wondering again (like he had a million times) why he even cared if he lived or died. A strange human instinct, the need to go on living. He knew he had to do something about her. "Get up," he told her. Slowly she stood up. The hate disappeared for a bit and fear took over again, but not as strong as before. He grabbed her (a bit too roughly) and dragged her to the kitchen. He pulled open a few drawers until he found an extension cord (what did she need this for he wondered). He dragged her back to the sofa and tried tying the cord around the girls wrist behind her back. Being quite drunk, this took a while. He then took the end of the cord and tied her wrists too her ankles. "This will probably hold her for a while," he thought as he sat down in front of the television again. He could hear her softly crying behind him and tried to ignore it. As he sat in front of the TV, his mind started to shut down part by part as he slowly fell into blissful unconsciousness. Just as he was about to pass out however, he knew what the feeler in "2B" was thinking. The man had realized that something was wrong in "2A", and being somewhat drunk himself suddenly wanted to play the part of the hero and see if he could help save the young damsel in distress. As "2B" started moving towards his door, a shotgun clutched tightly in his hand, the man in "2A" forced himself to try to stand and get to his dirty pile of clothes. He put on a couple of things as quickly as his drunken hands would allow him, while "2B" walked to the door with the broken knob and the couch propped against the other side. The man put on his long coat and pulled out the iron rod from a hidden inside pocket. "2B" was getting agitated trying to open the door. The dark figure read what was going on through "2B" mind and stumbled over to the girl as quickly as possible. He grabbed the terror stricken girl and pulled her aside just as a pissed off "2B" shot a giant hole through the door. He began to kick at the door and knock out chunks of it with every blow. The figure moved the girl as much out of harms way as he could and then moved by the door. The drunken "2B" knocked out enough of the door so that he could start climbing through head first onto the couch. The dark figure took the opportunity to swing the rod at the mans head (a bit too hard) and smash the wanna-be hero's head in. The girl in the corner started to scream. The gunshot and the screaming was enough to get the fat lady down stairs to call the cops. He knew he should have gagged the girl. The man picked up "2B's" shot gun and put it in one of the coat's large, hidden, inside pockets. He then started putting on the rest of his clothes, until he heard the sirens outside drown out the girl's screams. "Shit!" he yelled as he realized the trouble he was in. "Shit, shit, shit, shit shit!" He walked over to the girl and reached down to his boot to pull out a rather large dagger. This stopped the girl's scream short as she realized that she was going to die soon. The man knew of her fears just as he knew that two cops were approaching the main entrance of the building, hands on their guns. Both police men were in pretty bad moods and were secretly hoping (even though they themselves didn't know it) that they would be able to kill someone tonight. The man grabbed the girl and turned her away from him. She closed her eyes, getting ready for the knife that would end her life shortly. The knife swung down, but instead of cutting through her flesh, it cut through the cord that tied her hands and ankles. "Come on," he said as he grabbed her arm." You have to show me another way out of here." It was amazing just how frightened someone could get. She tried to protest but the crushed head of "2B" being pushed aside with the couch shut her up. "Now, what other exits does this place have?" He knew that there was a fire escape in "2B's" room before she even told him and he pulled her along. The drunken "2B" hadn't even bothered locking his door, and the dark figure walked into the room to find guns galore. Every wall covered with every gun a man could legally own, and some he couldn't. A box in one corner was full of grenades, with a bag right by it full of ammo for all the different weapons. The man couldn't believe what he was seeing. In his haste (and drunkenness), however, he had forgotten to close the door to the room. He realized that the cops were climbing the stairs and he had only seconds to get out. "Open the window to the fire escape," he told the girl as he went to the box. He grabbed three grenades and two boxes of ammunition for the shotgun, all of which disappeared into the coat. The girl, still very frightened, was opening the window at a snail's pace, and with far too much alcohol coursing through his veins, the dark figure was finally pissed off. He quickly went to the window, shoved the girl aside, and broke the glass with the metal rod. "You first," he said to the girl, indicating the window. As she started climbing through, a shard of glass cut into her right foot, and even though she tried hiding her pain in front of the hated man with quiet tears, he knew of it with the slight pain that went through his own foot. Were his powers getting stronger that he could feel other people's pain? He went through as fast as he could, and saw that the girl was already moving down the ladder without him having to tell her. He began to follow and fell when he reached five feet from the ground. "Damned beer!" he cursed as he slowly stood up. The cops by this time had seen "2B's" dead body and already reached the window to the fire escape. "Freeze, you stupid shit!" one of them yelled out the window, while the other one tried to get his fat ass through. "Put you weight on me, you get to be my hostage until I ditch the pig," the man said to the girl as he started running down the ally half carrying her. Before he even made it halfway to the street, he realized another cop was driving to the alleyway entrance with his powers. "I didn't want to do this, but there is no way they are taking me in." He reached into his coat and pulled out one of the grenades. As the cop reached the entrance, the man threw the armed explosive. "I hope that wasn't a dud or else I'm in..." the rest of the sentence was drowned out by the sound of the squad car exploding. In one swift move he threw his coat over the girl and fell to the ground as car and driver parts flew all over the place. He could feel the terror in the hearts of the girl and the two cops behind him who now, angered over the death of a fellow police officer, doubled their efforts at climbing down the fire escape. The man stood up, and facing the two cops pulled out the shotgun. He took aim and fired, but his drunken vision was a bit off. The shot went right past one of the cops' heads, and he was forced to reload. The police man closer to the ground jumped down and turned towards the man just as he finished reloading. They both fired at the same time. The man was shot in the left shoulder and fell a step back, pain burning through his shoulder. The cop wasn't so lucky. Brain matter from his head wound flew all over the alley and on his partner. The dark figure forced himself to shoot again, this time blowing a hole clear through the other man's back. All the action was helping to sober him up a bit, and improving his aim. The girl was so terror stricken at this point that she could no longer move. He contemplated leaving her, then thought better of it as he realized how many pigs would be here asking questions real soon. He walked over to her and pulled her up. The blood from his shoulder wound was seeping through his clothes and getting on the girl as he again half-carried her with him. They walked for what seemed like hours to the man, all the time his brain holding on to the girl's still numbed mind. He heard many police sirens from various places, but was never discovered. Finally they reached an abandoned old house that he had slept in a couple times before. The rain had started up again, and combined with the cold and the pain from his wound, he could hardly stand any more. The girl next to him was by this time shivering and somewhat delirious from the events of the night and the bitter cold. Just what he needed as the icing on the cake, to be attached to a half insane mind. They went into the house through a window in the back and the man fell to the floor as he got in. After a moment he forced himself to stand back up and removed all the weapons from his coat. He took off the long coat and put it over the girl's shoulders to warm her up. He then reached into the pile of weapons and pulled out a long thin pair of pliers. This was going to hurt. He carefully and slowly inserted the tool into his wound and began to pull out the bullet. It took all his willpower not to scream in pain. As he finally pulled the bullet out, he dropped it and the pliers to the floor, and fell down after them quite unconscious.
That's when he remembered the girl. He couldn't feel her anywhere. "Shit, she's probably on her way to the cops by now. I need to get out of here and now!" He quickly gathered what he had (the girl had left his coat behind), and bolted out of the building. It was still dark out, but the rain had stopped. He could feel that more than a day had passed partly because he was very hungry, and also because he was no longer drunk. It didn't take long to see what people around him were thinking. Hate filled and confused, the citizens of the city were easily able to bare the man down with their thoughts and feelings. As he walked, all too familiar questions began to pop up in his head. Why was he one of the people with this ability? He never had asked for it. Was there a purpose in having these powers? Was he destined to do something with them, or just born with shit for luck? Would he ever be able to get rid of the "gift" or harness its powers to where he would be able to control them? Or was he going to be plagued with the thoughts of every idiot and half-wit that made up the cesspool that was this city? As he walked and thought about these things, he sensed the presence of a Seer. Seers were rumored to actually have it worse then his kind. It was said where Scitzoes could see what people were thinking and feeling, a Seer could see absolutely everything in the mind of a human. Not just what they were thinking or feeling, but everything that existed about them, about the world, time the universe, everything. The dark figure couldn't understand how someone could ever live with that. Normally he would avoid his kind due to the strain it would sometimes put on the mind, but he was about to make an exception for three reasons. One, he had never met a Seer in person before, two, because the Seer seemed to be in some kind of trouble, and three, the Seer was a six year old little girl. As he started running to where the signal was coming from, he realized there were several other people with the girl. Most of them were Feelers, a couple Scitzoes, and some normal humans. As he turned around a corner into an ally, he could see dark figures all over the place. He could feel that the Seer and one of the Scitzoes who was with the Seer were in great trouble. He pulled out the shot gun as he stealthily made his way to where they were all gathered. Before he could get within more then twenty yards of the group's location, however, many different minds collided with his own. Some sort of communication was going on and things didn't look too hot for the girl and the Scitzo with her. "Hand over the chosen one ... NOW!" came from the mind of one of the Scitzoes. He was talking to a man of about sixty years of age, the girl's friend. The old man wore a brown coat and a long white beard. The only thing odd about the man was the giant broadsword he held in his hands. The sword seemed to almost glow with some inner power in the dim ally. "Leave the girl be, dark one," the old man communicated to the group. "She will not be corrupted and destroyed like the others." He began to lift the sword and the group facing the two began to slowly move back. Then, with much more speed then seemed possible for a man his age carrying such a large weapon, the old man began to attack. His first swing cut through one of the Feelers without the slightest trouble. His second swing cut the head right off of one of the normal humans. A thrust that quickly followed dropped another Feeler to the ground. When it seemed like the old man would have no trouble protecting the girl, things suddenly got ugly. The Scitzo that had originally been demanding the little girl from the sword wielder started chanting in a tongue unknown to the dark figure. The man's hands suddenly erupted into blue balls of fire. The intensity of the fireballs quickly grew and the man put his hands together, palms facing the charging old man. Blue light streamed out of his hands and shot towards the man, who skillfully jumped out of the way just in time. But another shot soon followed and the old man put his sword up in front of him as it absorbed most of the blue flame. All this time the little girl looked upon the fighting with what the dark figure could best describe as distracted anger. Suddenly the dark figure heard a clear voice in his head. "Your one of us, aren't you?" It was the old man. He had just noticed the dark figures presence. "You must help the girl. She is our only hope in attaining full control over our powers. If these people get her she is lost to us, and God knows how long it will be before another one like her can be found." The information was coming almost too fast for the dark man to understand, and the sword wielder was still charging the other Scitzo who at this time seemed to be building his power for one final attack. "I don't have much more time, please help the girl." As the old man leaped into the air, sword raised high, the Scitzo again put his hands together to release a bolt of light as thick as a garbage can lid. As the light shot at the old man, the remaining people watched in horrified anticipation. The force of the released power sent the closer observers falling back and the sight of the Scitzo's coat flying in the air as blue light hit the old man leaping towards him was something out of fantasy. As the old man was burned by the blue flame he used the last of his energy to cut through his attacker, splitting him in to two pieces, and then he fell to the ground with his last words being "Please help us," directed at the dark figure. A moment of complete silence passed as everyone watched the old man and his sword turn to dust, and a sudden breeze came out of nowhere to send it all into the sky. As the moment passed, the people around the girl realized that their target was now unprotected, and with a grin coming upon all their faces at the same time, they began to walk to her. They came to a sudden stop when a loud gunshot was followed very shortly with one of the Feelers heads exploding. One of them turned to see a dark figure aiming at him, and another shot left a hole in his stomach. The group all turned towards the dark figure now and began to advance upon him at a run. He had just enough time to hastily stick two more shells in the shot gun before he was tackled by the lead man. He flipped the man under him as he fell to the concrete and crushed his head in with the butt of the gun. He turned, shotgun ready, and shot blindly at the frighteningly close group. Two men fell to the ground followed by a Feeler as he shot off his last armed round. He tried to pull out the iron rod, but was to late. The group was on top of him and was commencing to beat him bloody. Blow after blow came and the dark figure wondered to himself why he had gotten involved. Slowly, though, a scream was heard above the sounds of steel toes hitting a ribcage. The scream was coming from the little girl that still stood at the end of the alleyway. In a matter of seconds, all eyes were turned towards the girl except those of the nearly unconscious dark figure. The group standing above the body slowly began to move towards the screaming Seer. Before they could take more then a few step, however, the screaming becomes too high pitched for the group to handle it. Blood started to trickle out of every orifice their bodies had to offer, and, suddenly, gushed out as one by one the men began to burst in a spray of shattered bones and human guts. Somehow, the scream didn't effect the dark figure. As the screaming died down, all was quite and still. The little girl looked around with the slightest look of surprise covered up by an apparent lack of interest in any of what just happened. She looked around a bit, not really noticing anything in particular, until her eyes settled upon the hardly breathing dark figure. She started to walk through the thick puddles of blood and human parts, not noticing the dark red that quickly covered her little black boots. As she reached the nearly unconscious man, she kneeled down to take a closer look. After long moments of observation, a sudden grin came upon her little face. "Hi, I'm Alice," as she said this she extended her hand in greeting. "Who are you?" The dark figure looked at her and was surprised to see that he had absolutely no idea as to what was going through her mind. It was as if his powers had no effects on her other then to tell him she saw a lot more then he did, and most of it wasn't very pretty. He tried to smile, even though it hurt just to do that much. "Hello Alice," he said. "You can call me Dave, and I think I'll be looking after you for a while now." Then, added as an after thought, "As soon as my bones mend enough to allow me to walk again." With that, Dave's slightly raised head dropped to the blood stained concrete, and all went blissfully black. |
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As
he walked down the streets of mid-night, the dark figure
could be seen clutching his head in pain, twitching, and
stumbling. His every step was a struggle. Blood ran down his
nose, its scent spreading and flowing into the wet alleyways
to be picked up by hungry creatures who wouldn't dare touch
him. They wouldn't touch him because of what he was. One of
the "gifted." The gift many ask for but none truly want. The
gift of knowing.
