| From: | Mike Goldberg <michael.goldberg@*******.COM> |
|---|---|
| Subject: | A darkened cross. . . |
| Date: | Sat, 16 Sep 1995 23:26:59 MST |
A dark and rainy night, as usual, is taking place. From a nearby alleyway
you hear a deep voice telling someone, "Ya know yar part. If we get
separated, make sure ya get dere. I hope dey will know what ta do. Time
is short." After a pause, the voice barks out a command. "Move!"
Quickly, a series of small and some not so small darken shapes come out of
the alleyway. The quickly get into a nearby van. The darken shapes are
reminiscent of ork and troll teenagers. Lastly, a particularly large troll
enters the alleyway. The troll shuts the door behind the van and spins
around looking out toward the street.
A rather large (although very small compared to the troll) human enters.
His greasy long brown hair is plastered to his face from the rain. He has
a bushy beard and is wearing a well-worn duster as well. At his waist is a
scabbard containing a sword. A gleam comes from the pommel. The pommel
seems to be a golden cross. In the man's other hand is a old walking
stick.
The troll shouts, "GO!" The van starts up. The human continues to slowly
approach. He seems to be muttering something unintelligible. The van
peels out as it roars to life and exits the opposite side of the alleyway.
The human smiles innocently. His eyes seem a little out of focus. Like he
is seeing another world. A world that is neither here nor there. His
voice is finally audible as he says, "Do you have any last confessions to
make before I kill you Doomsday? The lord, our almighty god, has told me
to kill you for the sins you have committed. Our lord says that the
children's time is not now, but is rapidly approaching."
The troll, Doomsday, mutters, "Fraggin' street trash." He bolts to a side
door in the alley. The door crumples as Doomsday lowers his shoulder into
the door. He quickly enters the darkened warehouse. The human follows
with amazing speed. Doomsday barely rolls out of the way of a vicious
swipe of the walking staff. The human starts circling Doomsday.
The human says, "Last chance for confessions sinner. Do you repent in the
light of your imminent departure from life?" He swings the staff again.
Doomsday blocks the swing with his forearm connecting with his. The force
of the block sends the staff clattering away. The human spins and catches
Doomsday with a series of punches and kicks. Doomsday backs away under the
onslaught but doesn't seemed panicked. The human shakes his head and says,
"I see you are made of unholy metal, no matter. Nothing can save you from
the lord's justice."
He moves again to punch Doomsday. This time Doomsday catches him first
with a punch to the midsection. It knocks the man back a few steps, but it
fails to drop him. The man smiles, "Not expecting that were you."
Doomsday merely grunts, "Street trash." As the human continues the attack
on him. Slowly Doomsday is forced back to a wall. The man draws a knife.
Its blade nearly invisible due to the poor light, but the pommel gleams
from the gold of the cross. The man grabs Doomsday's left hand and slowly
tries to force it against the wall. The tendons in Doomsday's neck bulge
as he slowly fights the man's effort to get his left hand against the wall.
Doomsday's right hand is reaching for something that is out of view.
Doomsday whispers, "So yar da fragger who killed da ork woman."
The human smiles viciously, "As my lord instructed me, I taught her how to
know god. It shall be a similar yet in someways different way that I teach
you that some very lesson Doomsday." The man slowly forcing Doomsday's
hand backward. Doomsday grunts in anger and obvious effort and slowly
forces the man back. As the hand with the knife starts to move Doomsday
smashes the guy across the face with an old crowbar. The man falls down
but is quickly up. You see some fluid flowing down his face. In this
light, it is unclear whether the liquid is blood or hydraulic fluid.
The man calmly draws his sword. The haze in his eyes is still there as he
starts to carefully approach Doomsday. Doomsday draws a gun while the man
is down and unloads two shots into the man as the man gets back up. The
only man flinches with each hit and starts to approach closer. Doomsday
snarls and tosses the gun away. "Piece o' junk. I should remember ta get
guns dat are sized for trolls anyway." Doomsday barely blocks the first
swing with the crowbar. From the flake that was shaven off the crowbar, it
is obvious that the sword is dikoted. Doomsday continues to move toward
the center of the room. He seems to be trying to free something from his
belt. The man continues to approach. Doomsday makes a dashing motion as
the human is swinging his sword. The area is suddenly covered in smoke.
Soon after there is a crashing sound of plastic breaking and then some
running. Soon after the man's voice calls out from the smoke, "Very well
Doomsday. Your friends shall pay the price for your sins. And then the
children that you try so hard to protect."
---
Its a cozy night inside the pub. All the fixture's are just where you
remember them. It is sure good to be looking at Polish's. At least there
is one place that hasn't changed in all the years. The door opens letting
in some rain water as Doomsday walks in. He is breathing hard but just
wipes off some water. He shuts the door, and walks in a few feet.
The man at the bar greets Doomsday. "Hey man! Been a while. How are the
kids?"
Doomsday sighs and says, "I need a ride ta a place real fast. Da kids are
about ta be turned over ta da one man dat can be der savior or deir worst
dream."
The bartender looks at Doomsday carefully and says, "What? Who are they
going to?"
Doomsday sounds less then thrilled as he says, "Nightmare."
The bartender laughs and says, "You shouldn't have to worry. After all he
did get ol' Powerhouse's (may he rest in peace) sword back to Cerise. He
seemed to be a good guy. As I recalled you were with him."
Doomsday says in a completely drained voice, "And I know, be'er dan anyone
what he is capable of. Trust me, it would be almost kinder to let dem get
caught by da people dey are bein' hunted by. I gotta hurry. I'll make it
up ta whoever drives me."
A small, wiry woman (human) with a shaved head smiles. Her 'jack gleams in
the bars light as she says, "Hey honey. I'll get you there with plenty of
time to spare. Just return the favor when I'm desperate, 'k?"
"Thanks. I'll make it up ta ya." ]<<<<<
-- Doomsday <22:21:07/09-16-56>
