A Martian Return (Part One) NR

I take the Aarwolf into deep space, shutting down the warp engines so we can slip past the hidden Orbital Line, a huge amount of hidden long-range AS (anti-space) guns that will eliminate any possible threat that shows signs of advanced technology. But there is no need, for as we approach the location of Mars, the scanners pick up random blips and objects. With a start, I realize that the UFOs are actually enemy battleships being ripped apart by the Orbital Line. But the problem was that there are battleships! The intergalactic uber-destroyers have never been seen or needed since the inception of Martian Home Republic, and the MHR Fleet and Army do not stand a chance against the huge ships. Fortunately, I am a quick thinker.

With expert piloting, I steer towards the location of the hidden hangar doors. And with a few scans of the area and a couple lines of code, the huge red Ecometal-infused doors open. The ship comes to a smooth stop on the polished landing platform, and the airlocks immediately open. I walk out first, ERR (energy repeating rifle) drawn, and for good reason. Everywhere I look there is evidence of an extreme battle! What worries me, however, is that there are NO bodies. I shudder as I recall tales of the dreaded Martian disease released from a biological weapons facility. There are many other tales of mysterious disappearances lately, and it could be any range of things. From flesh eating mutant space-slugs to invisible bandits. For the first time in a long while, I was scared. I was scared for my tribe, buried in the dirt, or maybe still walking the dark halls, scared out of their wits with guns drawn...

Unknown (Part One, NR)

I slowly walked through the forest with my head swiveling slowly.  Nothing I saw was recognizable.  The trees were all bent at an odd angle and the forest floor was scraped up. Suddenly I froze. The evidence was final. There was something huge somewhere close. I kneel down. I couldn't touch the tracks since my hands were still tied behind my back, but I could tell that the tracks were extremely fresh. Made not five minutes ago. As I studied the prints, a bush shook and rustled behind me. Immediately I turned, but there was nothing behind me. I shook my head and moved toward the mountains in the distance.
  I had been walking for about five minutes when i heard it again, a bush rustled.  I whipped my head around but saw nothing.  I shook my head, I was beginning to scare myself.  It was probably just the wind, but wait, there was no wind that time.  Now I was getting freaked out.  Something or someone was definitely following me.  I picked up the pace a little and then I heard something spine chilling, a low growl issued from behind me.  I stopped in my tracks and inched my head around until I was looking behind me, and then i opened my mouth to scream...

The Faceless Ones (Part Two) preview.

Today had been a great day for the Faceless Ones.  They had just finished taking over Africa and were now looking to take over Europe which would almost ensure domination over the human race.  The only countries that would have a chance were most likely America, Russia, China and maybe Britain.  This is because of the nuclear power these countries hold (except for Britain, they are just allied with America).  Nuclear Power actually does damage to the faceless ones, but it still does not destroy them.  
    That’s what is going on in the world right now, Hell has opened its mouth and wants to finally swallow earth and her diminishing beauty.  Well nobody really wants that so that is why we are still fighting for our freedom, for a battle is never lost until every last man has perished...      

Hell's Highway, a short story (R, gore)

A Ford Mustang, 1969 edition, sped down the road that had now become known as Hell’s Highway. Wrecks of cars, trucks, buses and army vehicles littered the road, making navigation difficult. The Freaks were also stumbling about, looking for food. Some were feasting on dead birds and animals, but most just looked for human meat.
The driver of the Mustang drove with one hand carelessly on the wheel, the other dangling out of the window. Gold-rimmed sunglasses covered his eyes, and a Marlboro cigarette drooped from his lips, unlit. ACDC’s Highway to Hell played ironically.
As the song finished up, the driver reached into his pocket, retrieved a custom Zippo lighter, and took both hands off the wheel to light his cigarette.. As he did this he accelerated, the speedometer reaching and passing 150 mph. He took a long drag, and put the precious lighter away.

A large group of Freaks blocked the road ahead. The driver smiled, and decreased his speed down the 30. He reached over to the passenger’s seat and retrieved an AK-47 Kalashnikov automatic rifle. He slowed even more, and honked his horn twice. He pulled his car so his window was facing the Freaks.

The wretched things spun to face him, and then began to trot in his direction. The driver swung the rifle up to face the Freaks, switched the action to full-auto, and opened fire. The sound of the weapon echoed for miles. The many bullets took the down Freak after Freak. The hot lead ripped through them as though they were butter, spraying gore and matter everywhere.

Despite the carnage, they just kept coming. The driver ran out of ammo, and instead of reloading, he tossed the rifle into the back, hopped out of the car and drew two M9 pistols. He walked up to the group and started popping heads at point blank range. The Freaks moaned, and stumbled to their deaths like cows in a slaughterhouse.

The driver ran out of ammo, and there were still ten left. Since he didn't have time to reload, he ran back to the car. He opened the trunk and grabbed the aluminum bat that lay there.

He turned and was almost tackled by one of the faster Freaks. Reacting quickly, he sidestepped the things lunge and brought the handle of the bat down on the back of its neck, killing it instantly. Looking up, another one of the Freaks was in range. The driver swung the bat upward for hit to the jaw. The thing was so rotten that its head almost came off.

The driver went on like this for another three minutes, dispatching all of the Freaks in his immediate area, before returning to his vehicle. He reloaded all of his weapons, pu the bat back in the trunk, lit another cigarette, and resumed driving down Hell’s Highway.  

The Faceless Ones (Part One) Rated R

His body ripped apart, imploding from the inside out.  He never had a chance, they could not be stopped.  The military was doing everything they could but they could not stop them.  So far, two million people were dead and more were dying every day.  Their bodies would be torn apart or disintegrated and they would be reincarnated to serve the Faceless Ones. And this is a story on how they were stopped.
    The White Cleaver leaped over the heads of the 2 infected (the reincarnated people) and cut their heads off with one swipe of his scythe.  He landed and saw a cleaver battling 3 infected.  The white cleaver threw his scythe like a boomerang.  The cleavers are genetically enhanced military soldiers that have skills that no one can match.  The white cleaver is the leader of the cleavers, he has been more genetically enhanced than any of them and he is very hard to kill.  He was built to destroy the faceless ones, that is his everlasting goal.  The scythe slammed into the first infected giving the cleaver time to do a flip and get away from the infected.  The cleaver then slammed the but of his scythe into one of the infected heads and cut the other infected in half.  The White Cleaver called for his troops to regroup, there was no answer, then suddenly the ground erupted and a faceless on shot out.  The White cleaver unsheathed his bow and notched an arrow in it.  The Cleaver unsheathed his scythe and leaped at the faceless one at the same time the White Cleaver let his arrow fly.  The Faceless One shot out tendrils of darkness into the cleaver.  The Cleaver stopped mid jump and exploded, guts falling on the Faceless on and the White Cleaver.
    This did not stop the white cleaver who's arrow had penetrated the faceless one already, the Faceless One did not know this and the White Cleaver just turned and walked away, the Faceless One raised a hand but nothing happened.  The White Cleaver kept walking the suddenly Leapt up into the air, performed a backflip and landed on the Fac eless Ones head.  The White Cleaver took out a small dagger and plunged it into the Faceless Ones head.  The White Cleaver leaped off and began to run away from the Faceless One.  At first there was nothing then BOOM!!!!  The Faceless One exploded.  The White Cleaver just kept walking, he walked over the bodies of his comrades when suddenly one moved.  At first the White Cleaver took no notice of it, it was probably just a death twitch but then the Cleaver took off his mask, and the person under it was... A kid! He looked to be in his teens and he was bleeding all over his body, He started to fall but the White Cleaver grabbed him before he hit the ground.  
    When the White Cleaver got back to HQ, the medics took the boy to the infirmary right away.  He was suffering from internal bleeding and one of his lungs was punctured.  The White Cleaver almost never felt emotion, he was not supposed to, but today he felt one emotion, pity.
    Most of Africa has been taken over and destroyed by the faceless ones.  The ones that are fighting are no match for them, slowly, their defences are falling and their courage going with it, today, Cairo fell. Thousands massacred, guts litter the streets mixed in with rivers of blood. The few survivors huddle in small groups, there eyes wide, no signs of sanity left, they will be scarred for life.  The White Cleaver walked through all of this with his squad of cleavers looking for something that could destroy the faceless ones for good.  It is called the Scepter of the Ancients.  It is thought to be hidden somewhere in Cairo, the magic radiating off it is so powerful, the White Cleaver can feel it from miles away.  He feels it right now, along with the stench of dead bodies and rot.  An insane man jumps on a cleavers back, that was a huge mistake.  The cleaver punched backwards into the man's face making 5 of the man's teeth fall out.  The stunned crazie tried to punch back but the cleaver grabbed his fist and broke all of his knuckles at once.  The crazie screamed in pain and dropped off the Cleavers back.  The cleaver then did the only thing he could do, he drew his scythe and decapitated the Crazie, it was for the crazies own good.  The White Cleaver and his squad moved on without a backward glance.
     
    
  
            
       

The Coming Storm Preview PG-13

The thing about death is that it doesn’t feel like anything. Which is a little bit annoying. Not exactly poetry, but considering I was thinking it with three stakes through my heart it was pretty good. But maybe I should back up a little bit. My name was Caliban. Anybody who knows there Shakespeare will probably be laughing at that, considering my situation. How did I get here? Well, I’m a vampire. Don’t think what I think your thinking. I don’t fucking sparkle. I’m not a fucking vegetarian, and no I won’t fall in love with some stupid girl in Alaska who’s mouth is always hanging open. I would rather kill you and drink your blood than take you on a romantic date and whisper sweet nothings in your ear. So don’t say anything.

    There, now that I got that out of the way, I can tell you my story. Wait, one more thing, I forgot to tell you about my brother. His name was Stephano. Ma definitely knew her Shakespeare, because to me Stephano was like my god. He was like me, a bloodsucking, bottom feeding bastard. But he was a bloodsucking bottom feeding bastard with class. He walked around in his black velvet suit and his long black hair, feeling constantly high and mighty. I always called him Lestat of course, and threw “Interview With a Vampire” quotes at him constantly.
    “Cal, get me some water, would ya?” said Stephano “I’m so thirsty I could drink the sink.”
    “Your body's dying. Pay no attention, It happens to us all.” I quoted spitefully as I gave him a glass of rust flecked water.
    “Oh give it a rest, would you Caliban?”
    “ There might be life in this old lady yet!” I yelled as he swung a lazy fist at me. “Come on Staphano, it’s time to go get a bight.” We walked outside. I think it was about eleven at night. Slim pickings, but you gotta make do with what you have. I saw a couple girls and we grabbed them and pulled them into an ally. I took of my sun glasses (my eyes are red) and took a look at them. Instantly I turned on the charm and hypnotised them. A few minuts later I bit into her neck, enjoying the feel of blood on my parched mouth. Meal over, Stephano and I returned to our run down shit hole of a home to wait till day passed. I flicked on the tv and slapped it to get rid of the static. A recording of Tempest was on and I gave Staphano  a hug for old memorys. My name sake recited his speech, the deformed mutant of a man showing intelegence behind a bruised and battered body.
    “Be not afeard; the isle is full of noises,
Sounds, and sweet airs, that give delight and hurt not.
Sometimes a thousand twangling instruments
Will hum about mine ears; and sometime voices
That, if I then had waked after long sleep,
Will make me sleep again; and then in dreaming,
The clouds methought would open, and show riches
Ready to drop upon me, that when I waked
I cried to dream again.” My voice copied that of my twisted namesake. This moment reminded me of my mother, her voice for once not slurred from the cheap spirits she always drank. She looked upon me, and for once she did not have a look of disgust on her face.
    “Your a monster Caliban, but your a beautiful one,” This was one of the only pleasant memories I had of my abusive, shambled wasteland of a home.
    Hallmark moment over, I went to sleep the day away. When I awoke it was nine o’clock. The sun had just set. It was a perfect night for a vampire. I got out of bed (I bet you thought I slept in a coffin) and jumped out of my window. My inky black bat wings sprouted from the darkness of my jacket and I landed gracefully. It sure is fun to do that, I thought to myself as I walked away from that shit hole of a apartment. The stars had been obscured a long time ago by the profuse smog from the number one self destructing country in the world. Welcome to America. Home of the all you you can eat couch potato.

Spider Gas (Pt.1) (R)

    We were not ready. We weren’t even close. When they  came, we knew we had no chance. The way they moved was so fast, so strong. We were dead before we knew what happened.  And then we came back.


When the gas filled the streets, people screamed and panicked. They didn’t have the slightest idea of what to do. So they ran, but the gas was everywhere. Most of them didn’t even have a mask, and the ones who did didn’t know how to put the damned thing on. Me and my men tried to help, but the gas took effect almost immediately. People started either swelling up or becoming emaciated... Becoming shades of what they once were. The ones who got bigger eventually just exploded, covering everyone around them in the greenish black goop that then infected them. But the ones who got smaller, my god, I have dreams about it almost every night. At first they just looked skinnier, but then their bones became visible. They stretched, limbs reaching impossible lengths. Their heads got longer, taller. They didn't die.