“Cripes are they here yet?”
Jin looked to his impatient partner and put a finger to his lips. Jin was himself a patient man by nature, but Raul’s mood could be infectious. Raul just sighed with exasperation, rather loudly at that, and tried his best to sit still. Jin peeked through the hole in the wall and resumed watching the darkened parking lot almost a block away. This area of town was pretty well abandoned this time of night, many of the old warehouses and shops condemned after a monster rampage a few months back nearly leveled the whole area. It had taken this long just to clear the rubble, and the city had simply condemned the area and not gotten around to fixing it up. Such was unfortunate, but what could one do with resources spread so thin? The city had other areas that needed fixing, after all.
Five minutes later, Jin was almost relieved to see the cargo truck pulling into the darkened lot. Raul’s sniffing about had apparently been accurate. Some sort of deal was going down tonight.
“This is it,” said Jin.
Raul grinned and said, “Finally!” His fist was already flaring up with flames.
“Not yet!” said Jin. Raul, however, was already gone. Jin turned. He saw the men in the truck step out just before a streak of fire tore out the entire engine block. The now half-slagged piece of metal smashed to the ground a few dozen feet away, and the streak of fire had halted, now standing menacingly in front of the men. The flames writhed around the form of Raul, burning a bright orange.
Jin joined him in a flash, covering the five hundred feet between their hiding place and the parking lot in two seconds. “Why are you so damned reckless?” said Jin, as he appeared next to Raul.
Showing posts with label Pilot. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Pilot. Show all posts
Thursday, January 21, 2016
Intrepid #01
ONE
As Jason entered the pool hall, the noise got noticeably quieter. There was a palpable dampening wave as the two dozen or so patrons gradually became aware of his presence. Jason managed not to show a frown this time. He went up to the small bar in the back, and tried not to watch in the mirror as a good third of the clientele decided to call it an early night. The bartender, for his part, managed to not break out in a cold sweat as he forced a smile.
“Hey, Jason,” he said. “The usual?”
“Sure,” Jason replied, not bothering to sit. The conversations that seemed so lively as he came through the door had dropped to a nervous silence and quick glances in his direction. He didn’t bother to meet them, just stood and patiently waited for his drink. The bartender just gave him a bottle, not bothering to pop the cap.
Jason went for his wallet, but before he could pull it out, the bartender waved him off. “Don’t worry about it, man. Same as before. On the house.”
Jason didn’t argue this time, knowing it’d be futile. He just nodded his thanks, and went over to an empty pool table on the end of the row. The three men at the table next to his decided their particular table was not up to standard all of a sudden, and shuffled over to the other end of the bar to play some cards. Jason frowned, but at least comforted himself with the fact that they hadn’t opted to leave the building.
Jason set the bottle to the side, took a moment to tie back his long blond hair, then set up the balls on the table and grabbed a cue. He felt a little silly playing the game by himself, but by now he knew better than to ask if anyone wanted a game. Ergo, he was a bit surprised when somebody presented himself at the end of the table just as he was lining up the first shot.
Jason looked up and saw an average sized man dressed in jeans and a black jacket, a casual get up that contrasted to the stiffly professional bearing the man stood with. “Solitaire is usually played with cards, as I understand it,” said the man.
As Jason entered the pool hall, the noise got noticeably quieter. There was a palpable dampening wave as the two dozen or so patrons gradually became aware of his presence. Jason managed not to show a frown this time. He went up to the small bar in the back, and tried not to watch in the mirror as a good third of the clientele decided to call it an early night. The bartender, for his part, managed to not break out in a cold sweat as he forced a smile.
“Hey, Jason,” he said. “The usual?”
“Sure,” Jason replied, not bothering to sit. The conversations that seemed so lively as he came through the door had dropped to a nervous silence and quick glances in his direction. He didn’t bother to meet them, just stood and patiently waited for his drink. The bartender just gave him a bottle, not bothering to pop the cap.
Jason went for his wallet, but before he could pull it out, the bartender waved him off. “Don’t worry about it, man. Same as before. On the house.”
Jason didn’t argue this time, knowing it’d be futile. He just nodded his thanks, and went over to an empty pool table on the end of the row. The three men at the table next to his decided their particular table was not up to standard all of a sudden, and shuffled over to the other end of the bar to play some cards. Jason frowned, but at least comforted himself with the fact that they hadn’t opted to leave the building.
Jason set the bottle to the side, took a moment to tie back his long blond hair, then set up the balls on the table and grabbed a cue. He felt a little silly playing the game by himself, but by now he knew better than to ask if anyone wanted a game. Ergo, he was a bit surprised when somebody presented himself at the end of the table just as he was lining up the first shot.
Jason looked up and saw an average sized man dressed in jeans and a black jacket, a casual get up that contrasted to the stiffly professional bearing the man stood with. “Solitaire is usually played with cards, as I understand it,” said the man.
Dream Wars #01
Just don’t look in its eyes. You’ll go mad if you look into its eyes.
Jason swallowed hard as he looked upon the shadowy figure below. It was hard to make out, actually, despite the fact that it’s shadowy form contrasted sharply with the pale concrete below. Its edges were blurry and the whole thing seemed to ripple as it moved, making it hard to look at. It had limbs, that much he could see. But whether it was bipedal or walked on all… however many legs it had, he couldn’t really tell. From the darkness, two pale yellow dots glowed in a bulge he presumed to be its head. These orbs whipped to and fro, quickly searching for something. Jason knew that looking into its eyes wouldn’t actually cause him to go insane… but to lock eyes with a creature like this gave him a sense of horror, a feeling that made his gut drop through the ground and his skin break out in sweat. He tried not focus on its eyes. This, of course, was nearly impossible, as its eyes were the only distinct feature on its body; when you looked at it, you couldn’t help but focus on its eyes.
So, rather than look at the creature, Jason took a quick look at his surroundings. A moment ago, he had been looking over the edge of a rocky cliff, watching the creature wade through a sea of tall green prairie grass. But the scenery had shifted suddenly. The drastic, but always spotaneous change of setting was still a bit unsettling to Jason, now that he was aware of it. It was true, what his new teammates said. Being an Enlightened Dreamer didn’t make dreams easier to understand; it only mde you more aware of how surreal they were.
Now the area looked like an old rural town, with houses covered in wooden shingles, and roofs made of thatched straw. The streets were a smooth, pale concrete, though. The sky was a pale blue; there was no sun, and yet the area was lit up like day. The alleys were still shaded, but this was mainly indicated by the fact that everything in an alley seemed to be colored darker than everything that was in the open. It gave the illusion of shading, despite the fact that the light shown equally on everything.
In the streets, in an open area that looked like the town square, people flitted to and fro. Many were fuzzy and indistinct. Many hardly had any features at all, but, unlike the creature he was pursuing, Jason could tell they were supposed to be human. In some cases, the people had distinct faces or clothing if nothing else. Jason didn’t recognize anyone, but that hardly surprised him. This wasn’t his dream after all.
Jason swallowed hard as he looked upon the shadowy figure below. It was hard to make out, actually, despite the fact that it’s shadowy form contrasted sharply with the pale concrete below. Its edges were blurry and the whole thing seemed to ripple as it moved, making it hard to look at. It had limbs, that much he could see. But whether it was bipedal or walked on all… however many legs it had, he couldn’t really tell. From the darkness, two pale yellow dots glowed in a bulge he presumed to be its head. These orbs whipped to and fro, quickly searching for something. Jason knew that looking into its eyes wouldn’t actually cause him to go insane… but to lock eyes with a creature like this gave him a sense of horror, a feeling that made his gut drop through the ground and his skin break out in sweat. He tried not focus on its eyes. This, of course, was nearly impossible, as its eyes were the only distinct feature on its body; when you looked at it, you couldn’t help but focus on its eyes.
So, rather than look at the creature, Jason took a quick look at his surroundings. A moment ago, he had been looking over the edge of a rocky cliff, watching the creature wade through a sea of tall green prairie grass. But the scenery had shifted suddenly. The drastic, but always spotaneous change of setting was still a bit unsettling to Jason, now that he was aware of it. It was true, what his new teammates said. Being an Enlightened Dreamer didn’t make dreams easier to understand; it only mde you more aware of how surreal they were.
Now the area looked like an old rural town, with houses covered in wooden shingles, and roofs made of thatched straw. The streets were a smooth, pale concrete, though. The sky was a pale blue; there was no sun, and yet the area was lit up like day. The alleys were still shaded, but this was mainly indicated by the fact that everything in an alley seemed to be colored darker than everything that was in the open. It gave the illusion of shading, despite the fact that the light shown equally on everything.
In the streets, in an open area that looked like the town square, people flitted to and fro. Many were fuzzy and indistinct. Many hardly had any features at all, but, unlike the creature he was pursuing, Jason could tell they were supposed to be human. In some cases, the people had distinct faces or clothing if nothing else. Jason didn’t recognize anyone, but that hardly surprised him. This wasn’t his dream after all.
Runan and the Glass Desert
The desert’s pure white sands glinted harshly in the sun, the light broken only by the shadows of the occasional large rock or high dune. As the sun continued its assent into the sky, however, these shadows were providing less and less relief. The place reminded the traveler rather strongly of his old home, when one strayed too far from the shore; merely trade the sand and rocks for snow and ice, and the effect would be the same: endless white stretching to the horizon, where it met the endless blue.
The small figure, dressed in a ragged white traveler’s cloak, was beginning to consider stopping for the day. He had already trudged a fair distance across the desert’s length and despite his uncanny resilience, the heat was beginning to take its toll. It was a day’s travel since the last oasis, and he was beginning to get thirsty; already, his canteen was dangerously low. Sheathing his short, wooden katana in the rope that served as a makeshift belt, the traveler unscrewed the cap off his canteen with the dexterous tip of his fin, and slipped his beak into the container. He managed to sip a mouthful of water, and when he was done, only a few drops remained. The figure contemplated that it might have been smarter to bring a larger vessel for water, but then, there was only so much he could carry. It was difficult enough waddling across sand with just his sword, the cloak, and the canteen; overburdening himself with a pack would have made travel more difficult for himself. Besides, hauling packs was mule’s work. Emperor penguins were not built for such tasks. And if worse came to worse, he could always attempt to divine a water source and summon a spring. Assuming there any to be found in this Godforsaken place.
The penguin marched on, unsheathing his sword, and using it as a walking stick. As he stepped forward, he suddenly sensed a shifting beneath his feet. The penguin flipped back in a leap which carried him a dozen yards away, flipping his sword into a defensive stance, his cloak tossed to the side. Before him, an enormous red form exploded from the sand, hissing and clattering as it rose from its hiding place. The form of a dire scorpion, large as an elephant and red as blood, loomed over the small swordsman.
The small figure, dressed in a ragged white traveler’s cloak, was beginning to consider stopping for the day. He had already trudged a fair distance across the desert’s length and despite his uncanny resilience, the heat was beginning to take its toll. It was a day’s travel since the last oasis, and he was beginning to get thirsty; already, his canteen was dangerously low. Sheathing his short, wooden katana in the rope that served as a makeshift belt, the traveler unscrewed the cap off his canteen with the dexterous tip of his fin, and slipped his beak into the container. He managed to sip a mouthful of water, and when he was done, only a few drops remained. The figure contemplated that it might have been smarter to bring a larger vessel for water, but then, there was only so much he could carry. It was difficult enough waddling across sand with just his sword, the cloak, and the canteen; overburdening himself with a pack would have made travel more difficult for himself. Besides, hauling packs was mule’s work. Emperor penguins were not built for such tasks. And if worse came to worse, he could always attempt to divine a water source and summon a spring. Assuming there any to be found in this Godforsaken place.
The penguin marched on, unsheathing his sword, and using it as a walking stick. As he stepped forward, he suddenly sensed a shifting beneath his feet. The penguin flipped back in a leap which carried him a dozen yards away, flipping his sword into a defensive stance, his cloak tossed to the side. Before him, an enormous red form exploded from the sand, hissing and clattering as it rose from its hiding place. The form of a dire scorpion, large as an elephant and red as blood, loomed over the small swordsman.
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