Beyond The Holders
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I Seek You
The following message was found on the sign-in book in St. Mere Abelle Institute for the criminally insane. Police records have a few spots blacked out and omit to mention that it is written in blood, and in a font too precise to be written by a human hand.
Took me about a month and a half before I finally managed to get a lucky drop-in on one of you elusive motherfuckers. Ballsy motherfucker, just strolled up to the goddamned desk and asked “ Is the Holder of Illusion housed here?”. Man, I swear my grin almost took my ears. I’ve been wanting to cut someone with this new bad boy for a while, but so far the only targets I’ve had have been rocks. Funny thing, apparently rocks don’t go to heaven. What are the odds, ‘ya know?
He took the paper, crumpled it, and turned to his left. At least this guy was the real deal. Had his head so far up his ass, he didn’t even notice me. I followed his soon-to-be-grass-ass out into the gray, blasted outside. I didn’t really know how a holder would react to someone not ‘scripted in’, as it were, and having never fought one before I had no desire to find out.
My sword, however, apparently felt like being a goddamned voyeur and held my ass a good thirty feet behind the guy, just close enough to keep a good deadly lock-on on him, but too far for him to notice my silent creeping. It’s kinda boring when you aren’t the one shouting random nonsense to the air around you and praying your ass off that you don’t get eaten. Or whatever happens. I need to look into that more, too.
This section, about four paragraphs long, has been blacked out.
This pansy finally runs into a warehouse he’d been standing outside of and makes for the manager’s office. ‘Ya know, I am just now coming to appreciate just how goddamned fast ol’ granfatherclock made me. I swear that guy was running through frozen molasses and was blind as a bat, ‘cos I managed to get into that office before he did and even get the door shut behind me. It was ridiculous.
So about fifty frickin’ years later when this slowass finally snail’s his way into the office, he goes to grope at the desk in the dark, right, like you’re supposed to? Man, snapping on that light switch was the most fun thing I think I’ve ever done. Then it got a bit weird.
I mean yeah, the unspeakably-horrific-terror-that-cometh-whence-our-feeble-human-psyches-ought-not-even-fathom woke up, but by that time I’d already opened that guy from the base of his skull down his spine and through his heart. Goddamned sword is all hell kindsa sharp. Bone kinda felt like cutting through Jell-o pudding. “Poof” he was gone, then it’s just me and a surprisingly, well, surprised looking abomination-thing. And I’m just lookin’ at him, tryin’ to figure out if I could cut him, and, if so, if I could get out afterwards.
I tested my theory.
It halfway worked.
So now I’m in an empty room, kinda stunned, ‘ya know, whatever, when the first guy just sort of “Poof” comes back and starts this transformation, turning into the exact duplicate of that holder. On that note, I’ve sworn off squid for the rest of my life. So, there I am, thinking I’m gonna have to just keep killing this holder over and over again for a while, when my sword just starts bein’ a douchebag again and has me ram it into the door handle and turn it. Sure enough, there’s the sound of a lock being thrown, and, I scramble my ass out of there. I’m sitting in the front foyer of that St. Mere Whatever place again, apparently I hadn’t moved, but Mr. would-be-seeker is lying dead with the exact wounds I’d given him, and it’s obvious no one knows what the hell happened.
I think my sword deserves a name.
I think I’ll call it Goddamned Good Sword.
Another two lines of text here have been blacked out.
Continued in: I Seek You, Gentleman Jack
|Last modified on 2009-11-23 16:03:43Viewed 6035 times|