A Monster Of The Grisliest Kind

HomeHome  AMOTGKAMOTGK  CalendarCalendar  FAQFAQ  SearchSearch  MemberlistMemberlist  UsergroupsUsergroups  RegisterRegister  Log inLog in  
Dear Alice, does anyone even remember this site? Sad Love, Joan

Share | 

 No More Heroes

Go down 

Number of posts : 141
Karma Points : 143
Registration date : 2009-03-12
Age : 24

PostSubject: No More Heroes   Thu Aug 06, 2009 3:26 pm

Hey guys... I've decided that instead of moping like I have been for the past few days/weeks, I'm going to put an idea I've had in my head since a child onto paper. This story was one I have told my brother since I was only 10 years old, but as I've grown older, I've expanded it and changed it constantly until it has reached something far more stable. I hope you guys enjoy my fic, called "No More Heroes".

(BTW, the chapters are really long so I have to break them up into smaller chunks so the forumotion board accepts it.)



And we were both blind. It was broad daylight, and we both knew light was shining down on us from the windows, and that if there was anybody was watching us from the windows, then they'd see us clearly. Our eyesight is not really impaired. I am simply blocking the light from entering his eyes. And he's syphoning the light around him in a radius that meant anybody that was in the room was blind. How unfortunate we share such a similarity in our powers, yet the small difference is enough to make this brutal.

I could have made this whole scene quiet to him as well, but then I would be unarmed, and this fight wouldn't be going anywhere. Each of us wielded their blades, and we hesitated to move. One sound could mean slaughter. One of us would eventually move, and I have a very certain idea that it is going to be me.

The problem is, that the longer I extend this fight, the stronger my opponent becomes. And with time, he will access even greater abilities that would make his sight unnecessary! I have to kill him now. I have to slice my energy blade through his armour, before it was too late. I have no idea about the fates of my friends. They may have fallen, and my enemy's friends shall come to assist him and finish me any moment now. They may have succeeded and my blindness will be over soon.

Or in the worst case scenario, both the enemy's friends and my friends had fallen. And that would mean that this fight will keep on going. I don't know how long we might stand here. I estimate about 5 hours until my enemy has enough advantage to become a lethal force of unnatural power.

This wasn't just one of our schoolboy fights any more. This one is about life and death. The rules are simple. Only one of us will leave this factory alive, assuming that we aren't both killed.

Last edited by tomaszavenger on Thu Aug 06, 2009 3:29 pm; edited 1 time in total
Back to top Go down
View user profile

Number of posts : 141
Karma Points : 143
Registration date : 2009-03-12
Age : 24

PostSubject: Re: No More Heroes   Thu Aug 06, 2009 3:27 pm

Chapter 1 – Let there be light

I'll start this story where most stories, but not all, start. The very beginning. Before all of this even happened. The last day of my normality. When I was a human, like everyone else. Before everything was messed up. When I was still Lucas, with flat brown hair, mechanical brown eyes, almost spotless pale skin, medium build, although very lightweight.

“Lucas... hurry up! You're going to be late!” my mom nagged me incessantly. I eventually succumbed to the annoying high pitched ringing of her voice as it resounded throughout the walls of my house. I was often surprised that glass didn't shatter at its horrible sound, but as I knew from Physics, that would only happen with a precise pitch, and it seemed my mother wasn't capable of that precision. One octave above middle C I believe, but I do not remember exactly.

“Get in the car! You're going to be late!” my mom shouted, following it with a small batter of the steering wheel that made the car horn shout. My neighbours were going to complain if she kept on hitting that thing. That fact is what seemingly forced me to comply. If there was one thing more annoying than my mom's angry voice, it was the neighbours' angry voices.

“Coming mom!” I shouted at her, and grabbing my backpack, I sneakily stuffed my laptop into it and hurried out to the car, and jumped into the back seat. My mom slammed on the accelerator. Of course, I am not oblivious to the fact that my mom didn't care if I was late. She only wanted herself not to be late to work. And she couldn't leave me here, that'd ruin her reputation as a teacher! She was an English teacher, and you can probably guess why I dropped English the first chance I had. There is only one reason that might have made me want to stay in English anyway, but you're probably going to find out that fact for yourself later.

The car took us past all the landmarks around here. The park, the river, the market, the industrial tower and finally the old mansion. Our school was located just outside of the city. It was called Albern High School, and it was situated in a place that almost looked rural. We had trees all around the school, but we weren't actually in deep forest. We were on the side of one. Albern Forest is one of the biggest forests in our country, and if it was dead centre, you could imagine that without a global positioning system or infrastructure, nobody would ever be able to locate it.

Entering the school, I passed by a few of my classmates. I'm not going to list them. But I'll probably pick two out of them for special mention. One for the right reasons, and one for the wrong reasons.

I'll start with the negative, because the positive is likely to cancel out the horrid nature of the negative if the positive follows it. If it was positioned alternatively, the very opposite may occur, and obviously, I'm not a person that enjoys dwelling on negativity.

So, this so-called negative is a boy called Vorun. The one who thinks he's top dog, the alpha male, the big boss. I swear, I have never seen a living soul with a bigger superiority complex than he has. He believes that strength is the ultimate decider to everything, and although you might think this so called boy is a cliché for a villain that occurs in every other story, well, you can think again. For one, this kid is smart. Maybe not the smartest in terms of textbook knowledge, but he's not a dumb numbskull like some of the real idiots you can find around here. His knowledge is well defined. However, it's more orientated on skills, street-smarts, and general knowledge. He knows a little bit of everything, but that is what makes him so dangerous.

Vorun is the school bully. With his two wingmen, Mike and Jordan, he is the most terrifying force in school. Vorun is not somebody to mess with. In fact, it is believed he has more power in this school than the principal. The reason why Vorun was like this was pretty simple. A time when a mugger had slashed his eye for refusing to hand over money. He was very young, about 8 or 9. He had no idea that you always listened to a mugger's demands, if you wanted to live that is. But since then, he's always wanted revenge. Not on the mugger... but on the entire human race.

Vorun wore an eye patch on his right eye, although a scar was visible protruding from the top and bottom of it. He looked a bit older than us, probably 18 or 19 rather than 16. He was definitely strong enough to act like it. The only person stronger than him was Mike, but for some reason, Mike looked up to Vorun rather than it being the other way around. Maybe it was because Mike WAS the cliché for a villain, and he wanted to be something more than that. Somebody that was smart just like Vorun. And it was for that reason Mike's loyality to Vorun made it seem like Mike was a subordinate species to him. And Jordan, well... he was special. 'Special' being the relative term here. He wasn't as strong as Mike or Vorun. In fact, he wasn't strong at all. But he had devoted his life, like Vorun, to make people's lives miserable. His methods were probably the worst of all. I've had a bloody encounter with Jordan. He knew ways of torture that you couldn't even imagine. He could make you enter such a level of pain, that you would beg for mercy, and he'd be able to make you submit to the most horrible of demands. Keep this to yourself, but the outcome of my experience with Jordan was drinking toilet water. I am grateful that he had chosen a clean toilet, and not like some of the filth as is commonly seen in male toilets.

I had seen Vorun at the lockers, ringing some kid for failing to pay the toll. The toll was one of the gang's games. To pass through a certain corridor, you'd pay them or you'd be punched. “A dollar or your collar” as they said, before they'd pull your tie up, and convert it into a noose. Poor new kid.

As I passed, Jordan readied to intercept me, but I chucked a dollar in his direction and he took it, and he allowed me to pass. I always kept a few dollars on me, just to pay them off. Walking round could take ages in some locations of the school, and usually the gang chose locations where this was the case. And giving them your collar was not the best idea in the planet.

After I had passed them, I entered a door on my left, marked Chemistry, and took my seat. One of the things I fail to understand is seating plans. Our school adheres to them rigorously, apparently it's a method of control, and keeping order. One thing the school governors fail to realise is that seating plans only add to the chaos. See, if a bully knows where his target sits, the target has no chance of avoiding any trap set for him. And believe me, I've seen some of the elaborate traps Vorun and Jordan have cooked up. One teacher left the school crying because of them. Nobody had said anything about it being Vorun or Jordan, and the governors couldn't do anything about them. They had no evidence. Innocent until proven guilty... one of the failures of democracy.

I sort of feel I've used irony here. I said I wasn't going to dwell on negativity, but I think so far my attitude HAS been negative, and I wouldn't like any of you to remember Lucas like that. I honestly believe I am a good person. To prove it to those of you who are sceptics, I will introduce yet another character. You see, desks in our school are always two person, one side is twice the length of the other, so it makes a rectangle, and two people could slot in on the long side, and the long side would have a personal drawer, and if a test was being administered, each person would shuffle to the end of the desk, which could fit one person.

And the person I shared every desk with was my best friend, Dominic. Dominic had exactly the same ambitions as me, we shared similar interests, although we had our small differences. My mom and Dominic's mother had been friends since high school, and we were born at almost the same time. We knew each other since a few days after we were born, and there were the foundations of a friendship that had strength that nobody else could match or shunt. We could discuss anything, we were the ones that we shared secrets with that nobody else could know, no matter what happened. And we could count on one-another. We've had our argument,s they happen, but we've always patched things up exceptionally quickly. And I was always thrilled to see Dominic, as he was thrilled to see me.

“Hey Dom!” I said simply as I sat down next to him. Dominic was always in first period much earlier than everybody else, quickly doing his homework. He always left everything for the morning, and it seemed to work for him. He got top grade every time. I fail to visualise how he managed it.

“Hey Lucas...” he paused, before smirking and looking me in the eyes with his own, mysterious dark green shade, “can you keep your eyes off her? She's definitely human!” he joked, flicking his flat, black hair as he did so, and turning to his homework. He was muscled and quite tough, but also really skinny, with tanned and definitely spotless skin.

“What are you talking about?” I reacted instinctively and automatically. I certainly knew what he was talking about. I was almost ashamed of it though. I usually don't notice when I'm staring at somebody, or something, or into open space.

“Amy? Who do you think I'm talking about?” he said, and he laughed as I punched him hard, but not hard enough to cause pain or damage.

“Keep your voice down!” I warned, although both of us knew that the warning was in vain. However, Dominic had the sense of decency and respect to do as I told him.

Before I go off on a tangent again, I might as well describe who Amy is. She is probably the most beautiful girl you had ever seen. She had long, although not too long brown, shiny hair that curled at the ends. Her brown eyes were very perceptive, and if she looked at you, you'd feel that they'd pierce into your heart and meddle with your emotions. She was skinny and she had tanned skin too. I remember once I had brushed my hand across it for a split second. Of course, nobody noticed that little touch, but I remember it was the smoothest, most wonderful sensation I've ever felt. It was so nice, I had been disorientated for a little moment after it, and I tripped into a vat of chemicals, requiring me to be humiliated in the classroom and shoved into the chemical shower. Dominic loved using this fact against me.

“Or what, we might get a repeat of the chemistry incident hmmmmmmmmm?” he said, and I believed that was his favourite word in the whole of the English language. “Hmmm...” always meant that he was having good fun with this. And I knew exactly what I'd counter this with. In fact, I think he might have known this too while saying it, or at least predicting it a moment afterwards.

“At least I haven't tripped for Chloesterol!” I said, and he punched me a lot harder than I had punched him. But we both laughed along with it, knowing this was only fun and games. Chloesterol was my nickname for the love-of-his-life, Chloe. She was a little on the chubby side, but had shimmering blonde hair, and wonderful blue eyes, and rough but enticing pale skin. Well, that's just a quote from Dominic. I didn't find her enticing at all. But he did, and I couldn't blame the guy for that. I could wager that he didn't find Amy enticing at all either.

Amy and Chloe were best friends, and they were like our counterparts. They actually liked to compete with us. But only in the classroom. Outside of the classroom, they acted like we didn't exist. We couldn't blame them, we didn't communicate or make obvious gestures to them at all. Our loving was done in secret.

If you don't understand what the competition was, then I guess you will when I run over the first period of the last school day of my life. Or at least excerpt of school day.

The lesson began when the chemistry teacher entered, an old guy called Mr Parsnip, who many people believe should have retired, but didn't want to. He just loved teaching. He never got bored, and he loved repeating things over and over again. Once, Vorun tried to torment him by repeating “I don't get it...” every time he explained. But Mr Parsnip just kept repeating till the lesson was over, and Vorun never did that again. Mr Parsnip had nothing but enthusiasm in his bones. Dominic often joked that enthusiasm was a replacement for his non-existent muscles. Mr Parsnip was weak, and he often required assistance with tasks like opening jars, but he never seemed to care about it.

“Okay, today, we will be learning about the processes in making sulphuric acid. Now, can anybody tell me what is the formula of sulphuric acid?” he asked. As soon as the words had finished coming out of his mouth, Dominic, Amy, Chloe and I had all shot our hands straight into the air.

“Okay... tell me... Dustin!” Mr Parsnip said. He never picked any of us first. He wanted to give the other children a chance, just like every teacher dreams of doing. Occasionally, another kid would get the answer, and he would congratulate them, but usually it fell down on us to answer them.

“I don't know, formula one?” he said, and the entire class began laughing at poor Dustin. Dustin never concentrated in class. He had a lack of motivation, he didn't aspire to do anything except laze about on his couch at home and watch television. However, for some reason, he seemed to be the best kid at dodging the eyes of the bullies. Maybe it was the fact he was so plain, simple and boring that they felt he wasn't even worth bullying it. He never payed tolls or got tortured. I always wondered if I could try to act like him, but alas, I wasn't prepared to give up my dreams in becoming a famous scientist.

“Umm... not quite Dustin... hmm, what about you Sharon Gibbs?” he asked another student. Sharon simply replied: “Formula two...” and that prompted more laughter. Sharon was the class joker, and she was Dustin's girlfriend. How the two managed to get together was a mystery that nobody was too bothered to solve. I've come to notice that Dustin sure rubs off on others, even me, from time to time.

“Okay... hmm,” Mr Parsnip said, and then he took out a 4 sided object from his front pocket. A famous little tetrahedron. It wasn't something you saw everyday, a 4 sided die. And each side had a letter on it. The letters spelled C,L,A,D. If you haven't noticed already, they are the initials of each of our names.

Mr Parsnip rolled the die. When it stopped, he looked at the side it had stopped on, and read out the appropriate name.

“Lucas!” he said, and within a few seconds I immediately replied: “H2SO4”. I smiled confidently and Mr Parsnip said “Well done...” in the same voice as he always did when one of us had answered the questions.

We were referred to as the 4 neeks by our fellow peers. We competed amongst ourselves for the sheer purpose of competition. We enjoyed every moment of it. We loved academics, and although we had a different set of options, there were some classes we all took, mainly the sciences, computing and maths. But as for the other subjects, the girls were more orientated on creative skills like languages, music and art and we were more orientated on the humanities such as history, religious studies and geography.

Last edited by tomaszavenger on Thu Aug 06, 2009 3:29 pm; edited 1 time in total
Back to top Go down
View user profile

Number of posts : 141
Karma Points : 143
Registration date : 2009-03-12
Age : 24

PostSubject: Re: No More Heroes   Thu Aug 06, 2009 3:28 pm

The rest of the lesson pretty much went on with the class being told everything, and Mr Parsnip throwing the dice, and of course, setting homework, giving us four extra because he knew that we'd easily take care of homework.

You might wonder why we never got a question wrong. That's simple. All for competition, we went as far as reading up on everything in the textbooks before the lesson started, so we already knew what was going to come up in class. The lessons were structured page to page from the textbooks, so we were never surprised about what was going to come next.

When the lesson was over, we'd head out for next period, which was History. This wasn't very enjoyable. The teacher, who we referred to as only “Sir” was strict, and he hated know-it-alls, so we had to be careful about how we answered questions. We'd even occasionally make mistakes on purpose, and let the teacher gloat about catching us out, otherwise he might send us to detention for being good pupils. Believe it or not, he once did that, and detention with “Sir” was really horrible. He would ask you trick questions, and if you answered correctly, he'd shout at you. If you answered wrongly, he'd shout at you. Either way, the room would be thrown into a wild hell of sonorous chaos.

So, we weren't terribly excited about entering the classroom. But when we did, something really odd occurred. “Sir” was in a happy mood. This was the first time we had ever seen him this way. “What's going on?” I had asked “Sir”, testing if this was some sort of fluke.

“We're going to watch TV today!” he said, followed by a huge cheer of amazement from our classmates.

“But sir, we never watch videos in this lesson!” Dominic pointed out in shock.

“Oh, not videos... TV. And why? Because I'm going to show you history... in action!” he said, and his eyes lit up when he said the words. Little did he know, he was right.

The room blinds were shut and the TV was switched to channel one. Something had been going on that nobody was aware about. Maybe because it was so unexpected. Maybe because it had happened in the night when most people were asleep. Either way, this would be the last thing we learned in a classroom environment.

“This is Channel One reporting with breaking news. Terrorists have stolen a prototype Militek space shuttle scheduled to launch by country of Colonia in 4 days, and have boarded the Omnidefense satelitte Aquaron. Aquaron is the current peacekeeper of the planet, able to send missile, laser and shell strikes onto any part of the planet it wishes, and is a shared Treaty-Countries planetary defense which only the Colonial President, the Sadaqui Governor, and Minoveran King can activate by using their fingerprints. The terrorists claimed 5 hours ago that unless they were given their own country in Medolacian territory, they would hack and annihilate the entire planet by sending Aquaron into overcharge. Although scientists known for constructing Aquaron believe it is impossible for the terrorists to hack the satellite even if they have boarded it, and that they'd never manage to fire the main laser cannon if they tried. However, the terrorists have remained confident and restless, and it is believed the 3 country leaders, who have called an emergency video conference Summit, have only 20 minutes to reach a decision, some experts in this field report...”

That's all I remember from that news report. The experts were extremely boring, and they kept getting more excited the closer it was to the deadline the terrorists have given them. “Sir” chanted “We're all going to die... we're all going to die” as if he was on some very strong amphetamine, and it was actually alarming to see him in such a good mood because of it.

Two minutes before the deadline, the leaders had publicly announced that they had no intention of answering the demands, simply because they believed the terrorists were bluffing, and the security was impossible to crack by a bunch of rogues who think they were hot for managing to hijack a heavily guarded rocket.

I remember waiting for the outcome of this, and now that I look back on it, the arrogance of our leaders always brings a little rage into my complexion.

Because, when the deadline had reached, all I could remember was being blinded in the most brilliant and luminous light I had ever seen, and being thrown back by an incredible force, before being knocked unconscious into the black depths of sleep.

My dream was strange, and definitely the most non-lucid dream I have ever had in my entire light. My dream was a display... of what, I was unsure about. Each colour of the spectrum was wrapping around me, its different tone acting seperately, constricting me. I remembered thrashing about within the threads, but each time I did, they'd make the most odd, hollow sounds. It confused me, the sounds were so alien in nature. I thought that they were touching cilia I never knew I had. The sounds were all unique, and I had never heard them before. I wondered why that was. Sure, I wasn't very musical, but even so, I'm pretty sure many musicians would never have heard such sounds as were emanating from my dream either. Had I gone insane? I fought against the current of colours, the threads turning thicker into ropes, crushing me and forcing air to escape my lungs. I was tiring, and the sounds were changing, still foreign, yet different. They were more thick and powerful then the sounds before.

I wondered if by not fighting, this would be a much easier process, but then, as soon as I released my defensive stance, the colours had pressed even harder than before, and they started to ENTER me through my skin, as if it was a sheet of paper and they were made out of steel. I screamed in pain as the colours forced themselves into my body, and the sounds and colour spread through me and seemingly ripped me apart. Never again would I experience such agony as that. It was worse than even Jordan's unique methods.

And then, a few seconds later, everything subsided. I still had something pressing against me, but it was far less weaker then the binding that I was receiving only moments ago.

I opened my eyes, and I realised I could see the wooden texture of my desk. And around that, pieces of granite. I pushed against them as hard as I could, but they would not budge. I then tried to push on the desk, and I heaved and moaned as I did, and that only moved slightly. Moving the desk had made a sound though, and then I heard Dominic shout to me: “Lucas? Are you okay?” I tried to speak, but I was too weak from pain. I looked around at myself and noticed I was covered in my own blood. It had soaked me from everywhere from cuts all around me. They seemed to have healed, but even so, I looked like a horrible wreck.

The desk was pulled off me by the strong hands of Dominic and he held out his hand in front of me, and I grabbed onto it. I looked at him. He was covered in blood also, but he seemed worse off than me. On his right side, there was a strange, rectangular but deep looking hole. It looked like a cuboid shaped pole had sliced into there. That didn't look good. The worst part of that was that it didn't even look too bad. The hole had metal around it, and I assume that part of the pole had remained in there. But he wasn't bleeding, and that was good news.

“What the hell happened?” I asked him with a weak voice, assuming he had been conscious for a long while before me. My assumption was verified by him turning and answering almost immediately.

“Just look around you Lucas...” he said with sad eyes, and my first move was to turn my neck to move my eyes upwards. Oddly enough, the roof was missing. I then went downwards and moved my head circularly to look around. The walls were all broken down, and it seemed that the whole school building had been knocked down as well. We could see into other rooms. And then, something made my foot inch, and I looked down. My feet had brick pieces all across them. In fact, the whole floor was covered in brick and wood. I looked around more closely, and then I almost fainted when I saw “Sir” smiling on his chair, his hands pointing downwards. Dominic had grabbed hold of me before I passed out, and he pointed behind us. Corpses of students were thrown everywhere.

“They're all dead...” Dominic said. “Gabriel, Logan, Yung, Nicholas, the whole load of them...”

“Is everyone dead?” I asked him urgently. I was really worried. Had the terrorists shot at our school? If so, why were we the destined target? Surely there were other, much more prestigious targets.

“I don't know. That was my initial guess. I was sulking about it until you pushed that desk. You don't have a clue how happy I am that at least you are alive...” he said, although sadness marred his once jovial facial features.

“How long have you been conscious?” I asked out of curiousity. Dominic paused, in thought, as if he had lost track of time. Had I been out that long?

“About ten minutes...” he said. “But I'm not sure... time is illusionary for the weary mind,” he said, and then he glanced at the pipe in his chest, and then he glanced at his right arm.

“Wait... what the hell is that?” I asked Dominic, and I pointed at his right arm. Some kind of device had replaced it. It seemed to have embedded into his elbow, so that it had become part of him. Dominic sighed.

“I don't know... I thought it was some kind of gun at first, but it doesn't shoot...” Dominic said. I examined it further, and noticed he was right. It had all the features of a gun, a cocking grip, a revolver styled barrel, a bolt release catch, and a firing mechanism. Only one thing was missing.

“Has it got ammunition?” I asked, and suddenly, he began to stare at me in such a way that if it was in a cartoon, it'd be accompanied by a light-bulb fizzing wildly and the noise a triangle makes when hit gently.

“No... it doesn't. I don't think that's the question we should be asking. I think the question we really should be asking is WHY THE FUCK IS THIS THING ON MY ARM!” he shouted, and I immediately realised he was frightened by the thing sitting on his arm. He was worried that it might be killing him.
“Look, there are a load of questions we should be asking, like why is everyone dead, etc... but we're too shocked to do that at the moment Dom,” I said, calling Dominic by his nickname.

Dominic nodded, and he sat down on a pile of rubble, breathing deeply in and out from fear. We sat in silence for a moment, but then Dominic moved his hand to scratch himself. However, when he realised where he wanted to scratch, he gasped from panic.

“My right side is itchy where the pipe is!” he said, afraid of touching it.

“Here, let me take a look, hold up your shirt...” I said. If it had been any other time, we probably might have laughed about how wrong that sounded. I looked inside the pipe, and instead of the innards I was expecting, I saw some strange object glistening within.

“Dominic, there's something inside...” I said in a calm tone, although they brought panic to Dominic immediately.

“Get it out!” he said urgently. “Just slowly... I don't want to release a whole load of blood. I'll put my hand up if it hurts!” he told me. I nodded, and I reached into the hollow pipe extremely slowly. I pulled on the metallic object slowly, and he nodded to show he wasn't in pain. I slowly kept pulling, and after a few seconds, it was out of the pipe. At least part of it was. I pulled a bit more until I realised what was coming out.

It was a strip of connected bullets! Golden coloured, ammunition, in the style as you'd expect that'd feed a machine gun. I kept pulling, Dominic not looking at it, but it seemed the whole ream wasn't ending. I had pulled out two metres of bullets, and there was still more inside!”

“Lucas, can you stop... I'm starting to feel sick!” he said, and then when he looked at what I had pulled out he simply stood there puzzled.

“I think we found the ammunition...” Dom said sarcastically. I slowly connected the end of the whole length of bullets protruding from the pipe to the bottom of the “gun” mounted on his arm to where I assumed the feed was.

“Dom...I know this might sound crazy. But, I'd like to do a little test. You remember when we shot those rifles for fun?” I said. Dom nodded.

“Could you do the same thing for this “gun”?” I said, emphasising the gun part. He nodded, and cocked the gun, but then we noticed something important. There was no trigger.

“There's no trigger...” Dominic pointed out. I then remembered it was on his arm.

“Well, it's on your arm... could you move your hand to try to grab the trigger if it's inside the gun?” I asked. Dominic shook his head.

“I cannot feel my arm. I've tried to. It's been replaced with this!” he moaned. “This useless trigger-less piece of junk.”

We both thought about how the gun could be activated for a while, but we came up with nothing.

“Ah, great...” Dominic eventually said. “My arm is gone and I have this SHIT instead!” he said, pointing it up in the sky. “What do I have to pretend to shoot someone with this, go like BANG! BANG!” he said, but as soon as he had said the first bang, the muzzle of the gun flashed, rapid powerful explosive sounds made themselves heard and bullet holes appeared in the rubble. I dived for cover instinctively, and Dominic convulsed as he wasn't prepared for the recoil, which was making him lop and trip across the place with the gun still shooting for a little longer. The gun turned and the barrel was slowly moving in the direction towards me. I just stared in fear as bullet holes entered the wall next to me and slowly got closer until the firing stopped.

“Oh god... that was close...” Dominic said. I noticed that the bullet strip was still coming from his side and they lead to the gun, albeit a little more tightly.

“Yeah...” I said, hyperventilating from the close encounter.

“I think I understand. The gun works by thought! I thought about trying to stop it when it almost about to shoot you, and it stopped. When I pretended to myself to shoot it, it started,” Dominic said, smiling from figuring this out, and I nodded.

“Well could you think about not shooting for a while?” I asked him, and he laughed.

“I took that the wrong way...” Dominic explained, and I couldn't help but laugh along with him.

Our laughter was interrupted by a beep in the distance, followed by a loud human shout.

“This is your principal, Ryleh. All survivors, if any, please report to my office immediately!” he shouted. We recognized his voice. It seemed that it was being amplified by some kind of device. I guessed it was the old megaphone that was still used for the annual sports day.

“I guess we have to go...” I said, and me and Dominic stepped carefully across the bricks, in the direction of the voice.
Back to top Go down
View user profile
Sponsored content

PostSubject: Re: No More Heroes   

Back to top Go down
No More Heroes
Back to top 
Page 1 of 1

Permissions in this forum:You cannot reply to topics in this forum
A Monster Of The Grisliest Kind :: Other Twilight Fandomness :: Fan Fics-
Jump to: